Fear No Evil
by jones2000
Summary: HIATUS. One will be remembered, one will be forgotten, and one will continue the battle long after mortal men have become as dust.
1. Something Wicked

A/N: Not really related to my Supernatural: Cursed series in any way, this story has been spawned from reading the discussion in the forums about people's theories why Samuel Colt made the gun and what happened to him to make him believe in the supernatural.

There is **no way** this is based on fact, though Samuel Colt did travel to England in 1835 to secure his first patent.

**

* * *

_PART ONE: The Ripper

* * *

_ **

_Edinburgh, Scotland, 1347._

_"What do you see?"_

"_A weapon. To fight the oncoming storm. Thirteen. I see thirteen. Something to do with thirteen." The seer seemed to be in a genuine trance, her head cocked to the side and her eyes staring sightlessly ahead. "Demons. So much darkness. They fight alone, and thus it will be forevermore."_

_The young woman lent forward, her face eager. "Yes? Who makes this weapon? I _need_ to know." Oh, how she needed to know._

"_A boy… a man… a girl."_

"_What?"_

"_The boy is young and full of hope. The man is wise beyond his years. The girl's old eyes belie the secret within. One will be remembered, one will be forgotten, and one will continue the battle long after mortal men have become as dust."_

"_What is the weapon?"_

"_Gunpowder. Smoke. Burning." _

"_A gun?" The woman narrowed her eyes as she stared at the seer. The seer looked at her, not comprehending her words. They were making a gun? "Which one is the gunsmith? The boy, the man, or the girl?"_

_There was no answer. _

"_Give me the wretched name, woman!"_

"_Colt. His name is… Samuel Colt."_

"_Thank you, my good woman." The noble lady rose, smoothing her skirts. "Thank you indeed." Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, the same shade as the night around them. "And now I am afraid that I cannot let you live to speak your words to anyone else. Sweet dreams, bitch human."_

_The seer did not look alarmed as the pretty young woman raised her arm._

"_There is more." She said calmly._

_The demon stilled. Perhaps the human was only attempting to prolong her own pitiful existence, but perhaps she was still in the midst of her true visions. "Yes?"_

"_I see… you fail. The weapon is made. Others come to claim it over the years, and it serves them well unto their deaths. You and your kind are powerful, demoness, but we shall not fear you. We shall not serve you. And we shall not surrender unto you if there is but one fool left to fight for what is good and just in the world."_

"_Even if they can never truly be part of that glittering dominion?" The demon snarled._

"_We all have our burdens to bear. How many of us truly walk in the light?"_

_It was then as the seer stood that the demon realised what a mistake she had made, coming to _this _carnival _this _night to seek out the consultation of _this _woman. The human's blood hummed; she was one of the ones that was not truly of this world and not of the next. _

_She was a mistake._

_The bolt struck her back and sunk deep._

"_There will be more." The seer said, nodding to the young man standing at the mouth of the tent with the crossbow in his hands. "The future has already been written for us."_

_**London, England, 1835.**_

_**January 6.**_

Christopher McKinnon, born Glasgow, Ireland, 1359. Died Cardiff, Wales, 1380. Risen into his next vampiric life the next day hence. Age, 476 years and counting.

_He had a dream the night before. In that dream he confronted McKinnon over the River Thames, blade in one hand and pistol in the other. The vampire hissed at him, bearing fangs._

_"And you would be the Ripper." He said. "My, what an appropriate name your fellows call you by. Finally we meet face to face."_

_"Indeed." He had stridden forward then, raising his arm and sending the blade spinning across the bridge, sinking into the vampire's shoulder. The creature screeched…_

_But of course he did not foresee that he would loose the upper hand. It was like he was prevented by the Powers that Be from witnessing his own mistakes, should he be able to prevent them._

The flintlock pistol wasn't really that good at all.

He'd known all along that he would die this way, tangled in the talons of his enemy. The pistol, clattering to the ground, his chest a bloody mess of gashes, in pain but not allowed to die. They would not let him go that easily.

McKinnon wanted to hear him beg to be spared.

"Beg." The creature breathed, rancid breath on his face.

No fear. There was no longer any need to fear. Death had finally come to his door. He would face it squarely, jaw set, standing proud. He forced his heart to cease pounding, waited for the blinding panic to ebb.

_They can kill me but they can't kill what I represent._ In death he would be the victor.

No more fear.

"Beg."

It wore the face of a man who had long perished, eyes as cold and dead as the grave and clothes hardly suiting this era. The vampire brought his fist up sharply against Ripper's face. Gripped hard.

"Beg."

Blood was steadily dripping down onto the cobbles. With one last wrenching pain, he ripped himself from the vampire's phantomlike touch, shouting out as invisible claws raked his very soul. The vampire did not look afraid. He cocked his head to the side, curious and amused.

"What will you do without your toy?" As his fist was about to close tightly around the handle of his pistol that was only a few feet from where he lay, the flintlock flew from his grasp. No! he mouthed as the pistol, his friend and faithful weapon skittered across the pebbles and over the side of the bridge. 

There was a _plop!_ as it hit the water and sank into the murky depths. Ripper stared after it, his hand still outreaching plaintively.

"I wonder, will you beg me to kill you? To end it all? Will you struggle as I drink from you?" The vampire asked. Wildly glancing back, Ripper knew there was only one thing left he could do.

He plunged headfirst over the bridge railing into the Thames.

High above, the vampire looked on as the man threw himself to his death. "Fool." Turning, he adjusted his billowing frock coat across his shoulders and smiled. "Fool." He again muttered as he walked away.

Unbeknownst to him, he too was being watched. Shadows in the dark. Eyes glinted in the night, and willed the human in the waters below to live.

* * *

The rough surface of the water shocked him awake with the force he met it with. Pain seeped into every joint as he struggled against the rips and the waves that were dumping more water on his head and trying to pull him under at the same time. 

He was being dragged down.

_Don't panic!_

Breath running out, he struggled out of his long, heavy coat and ripped off the empty scabbard that was hanging uselessly by his side before making one last lunge for air.

He broke the surface.

The London night was warm and deceptively calm, but the water of the Thames was choppy and freezing. Taking in one last breath, he began to head for shore, pain rippling up his back each time he rotated his right shoulder. Finally his reaching hands snagged and he scrambled up onto the muddy riverbanks.

_Am I alive?_ As he gripped his shirt and realised that he was, indeed, still alive, and he felt giddy. Invigorated. _I'm alive!_ His legs gave way from underneath him and he slipped down to his knees in the grass. His shoulders quaked in silent laughter at the absurdity of it all, how he had managed to survive once again.

Ripper paused to ponder it all.

There had been three in the last two days. Three in the middle of old London Town, all within the vicinity of the London Patent's Office. They were waiting for something. Or someone. A massacre or a welcoming party. He shivered at the implications of it.

Or perhaps that was just because he was cold. He rose to his feet. There was something lurking behind him, he could feel it. Slinking around just out of his sight. Ripper turned…

And was immediately pounced on by the vampire that had wounded him on the bridge. He went down hard. There was blood in his mouth, and McKinnon whispered something in his ear.

"You didn't really think I was going to give up that quickly, did you?" The vampire buried his fist into the man's stomach, again and again. Catching his arm, the man wedged his legs between himself and the vampire and sent the creature stumbling back toward the water's edge. 

Flipping himself to his feet, his hand plunged into his boot and he pulled out his small silver knife his father had given him many years before. It was too small to be of much use, but he still felt comforted by having it in his possession. He held it up, preparing to strike.

_Come and get me, you big, ugly…_

The vampire snarled and was about to grab for his neck when his face went oddly still. Both the man and the vampire looked down in shock at the point that protruded through his chest. The blade was odd and old, and while still impaled, the vampire convulsed once and was still.

He stared as the knife was pulled from the lifeless chest. Standing behind the vampire was a woman. On instinct, he once again raised his knife. Experience had told him never to underestimate anybody. Especially a female.

"Identify yourself or die." He said, his voice sounding bolder and stronger than he presently felt.

"Oh, please. Don't be so dramatic."

She came out of the darkness, a very unladylike swagger to her steps. She was pretty, in a way, with golden hair and eyes that seemed too knowing for her age. He had never before seen any knife like the one she was holding, and for a moment wondered what it could do to him.

A woman. Merely a harmless woman, primped and gowned and ribboned.

_This is not normal._

"What are you?"

The woman stepped forward, the strange knife still in her hand. As he watched in shock, her eyes coloured over, the soulless depths of Hell.

Ripper jerked into action, bypassing her unresponsive arms and bringing the silver knife flashing down across her throat.

She winced as the silver bit into her skin, and reacted, tossing the man aside. He landed hard on his shoulder and rolled once. "Ow." She said, the wound already closing as he watched her. "Doubtless you're the one called 'the Ripper.' Quite appropriate."

"Begone from here, demoness." He struggled to his knees, his ribs aching.

"Are you going to make me?" She almost challenged.

"Are you going to kill me?" Ripper shot back.

The woman knelt down so she was nose to nose with him. Her eyes slowly melded back into those of a human. "Not today, little man." She said slowly, as if she was surprising herself by her words. "Not this day, at least."

"What do you want? Was that merely an exercise in vanity? To prove that you could?" There was accusation in his tone even though he had been hunting McKinnon for nigh on ten years now. And a small amount of churlish sullenness that it was not he that had skewered the cursed creature. Ripper rose to his feet. The demon _allowed_ him to rise to his feet.

"Do not be so childish." The demoness chastised him. "If I had wanted you dead, well…"

Ripper swallowed.

"There's a bounty on your head." The demoness said calmly, inspecting the fingernails on one hand. "Did you know that?"

"A bounty on… my head?" He tried to keep the horror out of his voice. That was why all these creatures were massing around London! Because he was there? The thought was almost too terrible to comprehend.

"Quiet. I could clean up, should I bring you to my master now." She looked him up and down, wet clothes, straggly, sodden curls, unshaven cheeks, and wrinkled her nose at him. Ripper could hardly blame her.

"I saved your life." She carried on. "Now you owe me."

"I'll be damned before I walk into the gates of Hell for your master!"

"Naturally." There was the faintest raise of an eyebrow. "No, Ripper the Hunter. I have something different in mind for you."

"What?"

"You and I. Our partnership may be all the future hinges on."

He did not like the way she drew out the word _partnership. _"And what if I refuse?"

"Then you loose whatever protection I had previously extended over you." She said, a seductive, caressing edge to her voice. "Do we have a deal?"

He was silent for a long moment.

"What does this partnership entail?"


	2. Devils and Demons

_**London, England, 1835.**_

_**January 7**_

When he next woke, Ripper did not want to get up at first, hoping against hope that the events from last night were as insubstantial as the arse-blasted nightmares he had been having on and off even since his twenty second year.

But as he stared at the ceiling of his small, rented room from lying flat out on his back on the floor, he knew with a dead certainty that it had not been a wholly hideous nightmare.

He had made a deal with a demon.

"_You cockeyed idiot!" _He could almost hear his father shouting in his ear. _"You gypsy-bred moron! Have you gone completely insane?"_ Ripper sat up, ignoring the voice in his head that agreed with his father. He was insane. He had known all along that it was only a matter of time.

"Oh, hello." He looked up. The fair-haired woman was sitting on his narrow bed, watching him unwaveringly, like a cat with a mouse stuck between his claws. It unsettled Ripper more than it should have, knowing that this lady had been watching him sleep for the Lord only knew how long.

But on the other side of the coin, her very actions bespoke of how serious she was when she made talk of _alliances _and _partnerships._ She could have murdered him in her sleep, she could have bound him and dragged him down to greet her master.

Yet she did naught.

"I would shave if I were you." She pointed at him with a delicate finger. "You're starting to look a little woolly, and I am not partial to werewolves."

Ripper unconsciously ran a hand over his bristly chin. "Fine words." He retorted. "For a demon. You are their betters, are you not? All the lesser creatures answer, ultimately, to you, yes?"

"Hardly." She scoffed. "We would be ashamed to call those creatures allies. They are animals, caring only for the kill. They have no mind, they cannot feel, they cannot plan. True, we are their superiors, but to tar us with the same brush, someone less understanding than I would tear you apart for your insult."

Ripper's eyes strayed to her knife, which was placed casually in easy reach. It had killed McKinnon the vampire chieftain, so for a moment he wondered. _Dare I reach out and take it for myself? Dare I plunge it into this woman's black heart?_

A grin rolled across the woman's face, predatory and dangerous. "Go on." She said. "Take it. Show me what you can do. Give rise to the fire that burns in your heart. You'll be doing a lot of people a favour." There was a faint bitter edge to her voice.

It was that bitter edge, however, that stayed his hand.

"You come with me." He said. "You follow me and stay in my home. Don't you have a lair somewhere that you could hole up? Surely it's not a very thorough survival method by staying with the one man that will kill you?"

"_May_ kill me." She said, a small smile playing on her lips. "I've hooked your sense of adventure, my dear, and I don't intend to let it go all that soon."

"Why are you here?" There was a knife under his hand, sharp and smooth. For a moment he wondered who would be the faster, he or her. "I am a wanted man by your own words. Yet you stay with me away from your brethren and offer me protection."

"I guess I'm a whimsical sort." Another smirk. "I can tell you about your dreams." She said smoothly.

"My dreams?" Ripper almost choked on his own words.

"Your dreams. Deaths, screaming, night after night. Flashes of what is and what could be. Never sure if what you're seeing has already passed or if your own actions cause the great calamity to happen. Slowly _tearing your head apart_." She exaggerated her last line, and Ripper winced.

"Oh, the things I can tell you."

"Why? Why would you tell me? Why not someone stronger? Faster? You're a demon; why talk to me at all?"

"I wish I was like the others, but I'm not." The woman said bluntly, angling her chin up. "I am here for my master, under the guise of killing you."

Ripper winced again.

"You are the first domino, Ripper the Hunter. If you die, a complete chain of events begins to unravel."

"What chain of events?"

She shrugged. "Just repeating what I've been told." She said.

Ripper sat on the floor a moment longer before rising to his feet. Rummaging around in a small tin box that was next to a leather-bound book, he withdrew a rather wicked-looking razor. The demon looked nervous for a moment until he splashed water on his face from the basin and began to delicately shear the fuzz off his chin.

"I intend to follow the rest of the clan today." He said conversationally, although he was almost bristling with curiosity. "You may come if you wish."

"May I?" She flared immediately. "Oh, how good of you, bestowing me with the _permission _to follow you. How privileged am I?"

He did not react to her sarcasm and that was what enraged her the most. She sat amongst his blankets, arms crossed, fuming. Perhaps she should go back. No one need know that she wasn't hunting; they needn't know that she wasn't doing her master's bidding.

They needn't know that what she was doing now could potentially change the future.

As dawn was creeping over the horizon, Ripper slipped out the window and into the topmost branches of the oak tree by the side of the inn. The woman winced as he wrapped his legs around a branch and it began to bend under his weight

"Come on, then!" He hissed to her, waving his gloved hand impatiently.

"Are you crazy? I think I'll take the stairs." Her strangely human stubborn streak surprised him as he crouched balanced in the tree.

"And how many of your folk will be watching that very door just waiting for one of us to come out?"

"They're not my folk!" She said sharply as she backed out the window behind him. Behind her, she could hear him mutter _what's the difference? _"And don't look up my skirt!"

Another grumble, which she ignored. As soon as they had dropped to the ground, Ripper was up again, gauging traffic in the street and the shadows on the rooves of other buildings. Years of terror had taught him to be cautious.

"Come… do you have a name?"

The demon stopped in shock at the question. "You're the first that's asked that in a long time." She said, an unusual quaver in her voice.

"You see, I can't very well walk around calling you 'Demon'." Her hunter said matter-of-factly. "Someone might get suspicious." There was the smallest note of sarcasm in his voice.

"And here I was thinking you were just being a gentleman." She sneered.

"This is the year of our Lord, 1835." Ripper said, and she realised that he was not being deliberately cruel or callous, but was merely… extending his protection to her. "They still hold witch trials in some of the smaller hamlets. Poor souls."

"I know."

He looked back at her as they walked along the street. "What have you done to me?"

"What?"

"What have you done to me to make me trust you?"

She could not think up an answer to that.

"Maybe you want to trust the people around you." She said finally. "But because you've seen the evil in the darkness, you can never really place yourself out there, to be touched. The want never goes away. We always long for what we can never have."

"Very poetic. Was is it you want?" The voice was gentler this time, less insistent than his shouted demands of when they first met.

"I want…" She stopped. Took a breath. "I want to make things right."

A sneeze could have knocked her companion over, so stunned the expression her wore. Her mouth twisted into a wry grin. "You don't believe me. I expected as much. My mother would tell me I had to earn the belief of others."

"Your mother?"

"And yet again, the scepticism is overwhelming." She teased softly. "It's a glamour." She said.

"What?"

"Why you trust me. I have created the illusion of someone you would have no trouble trusting. It took some time to fashion, I assure you. It has to be tuned to the very person you're going to fool. You're a very complex man, Ripper."

"You are the one that's been following me!" He sounded outraged but hardly surprised.

"Mm."

Ripper shook his head hopelessly. Fancy, a voyeuristic demon! "I do not expect you to follow me." He said. "But if you do, try not to get in the way. I would really not like to kill you by accident."

"How chivalrous." She shot at his back. "My name's Ruby, by the way."

Ripper couldn't help but smile. He continued down the path leading further out of the town, a path that was still wet and muddy. After a few moments, there was a noise behind him, and Miss Ruby was at his side once again, holding her skirts above the ankle to not get muddied.

"You didn't tell me what your name was." She pointed out sharply.

"No. I didn't."

"We made a deal." She said. "You do one job for me, and until then I extend my protection over you. I can hardly do that if I am not present."

"Of course."

"I'm glad we are finally on the same page."

"So am I. But that hardly means that I am required to spill all my secrets over to you."

"Surely whatever you have done can't be that bad."

His flat-eyed stare stopped her words in their tracks. "You have no idea what I have done."

* * *

The bindings were cutting into his flesh where they were wound about his wrists. "Please, no!" He shouted. Pleaded. "Please don't do this! You don't have to do this!" He was scared, so scared. He had been riding in the woods with his two brothers merely days ago, and now he was the only one left. 

The creatures had torn open his brothers' throats and drank their blood, while he who had been forced to watch screamed and begged for mercy.

He demanded the God above All what he had done so wrong to deserve this hell. He was a good Christian. He was a dutiful son. He did right, and did as he was told, never causing a fuss or a bother. God would not answer his uncertainties, or quieten his rattled mind, so, despairingly, he turned to one of the murderous fiends that had tortured his brothers so.

She seemed kinder than the rest, and in the long, blooded hours, he had come to know her as 'Kate'. She had been the companion of the creature that brought him here, Christopher McKinnon, and now she was the driving force behind the pack's need to avenge themselves on the hunter, the one that was called 'the Ripper'.

Whoever this 'Ripper' was, he wished the man the luck of all the angels in Heaven to outrun these beasts.

Kate had looked at him then from underneath her long locks of raven hair and answered. "My love has perished. Our clan is leaderless, and therefore our number differs by one."

A cold, numb feeling spread through him. "Why are you doing this?" He cried.

One of the large, brutish demons that had brought him and his brothers in smiled. It was hideous, and as he watched, the blackened stumps of teeth were sheathed by white, glimmering fangs. "Because it's fun." He snarled, before laughing, huge belly chuckles that echoed menacingly around the room. In short order, Kate and the others joined him in his mirth, before a skinny woman in men's trousers withdrew several bottles of wine from somewhere.

"_Because it's fun!"_

He lowered his head and sobbed as the party went on around him, and he slowly began to count the minutes before he would be joining them in their unholy frolicking.

Kate the Vampire looked up over her glass of wine to the human huddled in the corner. He was a broken man now, where at first he had screamed and fought and cursed them with all his might to the fiery pits of Hell. She could see something else glimmering in the corners of his eyes.

For now he was now also quite mad.

She had only woken this morning to hear the human laughing softly. It was a lost laugh. An insane laugh. The laugh you only got when you had finally realised that there was no hope left, no saviour at the end of the tunnel.

The vampire licked her lips. Yes, this one would make a good addition to her clan, perhaps even take the place of Christopher by her side.

When he was born again into the darkness.


	3. See no Evil

No one else knew, but Ruby had two people inside of her. One was Ruby the Demon, the creature that would do her master's bidding with a song in her heart. The other was Ruby the Human, who wanted fashionable clothes, was concerned about the latest plague sweeping through the little town that used to be her home, and had formed curious attachments with other men and women over the years.

She was split. Ruby the Demon and Ruby the Human were in a permanent struggle for power over her psyche, and up until she saw the face of the man she was following down the street, the Demon was the one that was running the show. As soon as she saw _this _man, Human Ruby was back.

Still not sure whether that was a good thing. Ruby the Human was _way _too… human.

Her hunter came out of the smithy on the corner. The natural order of things dictated that the two of them should have been mortal enemies, but for some reason he trusted her. Maybe because he'd always wanted someone to trust. And she withstood his stubbornness and offhandedly callous comments simply because what she was doing may bring complete devastation to the whole Hierarchy.

Maybe.

One day.

At least that was what she had been told.

This rather plain and scruffy-looking man with his unambiguous-coloured curls and his long dark coat was going to do something that would keep her boss and her boss's bosses in a tizz for decades to come. And that could only be a good thing.

"Well?" She demanded.

"Carlyle says his apprentice never came this morning for his rounds." Ripper said, and there was worry etched into the deep lines on his face. "His brothers had taken him riding in the hills west of here and no one has seen them since."

"Maybe they just wandered off. Decided to take a break and get down to the beach."

All the answer Ripper needed to give was in his incredulous glare and the slight raise of an eyebrow.

_On second thoughts, who would want to go down to the beach in England?_

"You do not know Luther." He said bluntly. "I used to watch him for his parents when they were away. He would never skive off a day at the Smithy."

"Maybe he wouldn't." Ruby said. "But maybe his brothers had other ideas. I _did _have brothers once. I know what they are like."

"I had brothers once, too." Ripper retorted sharply. Miss Ruby blinked at his use of the word _once. _"Don't think I underestimate the nature of my own folk. It was late the other day, when Miss Kathleen, Carlyle's daughter, was riding out with her stepmother that they stumbled upon three mutilated horses. The poor girl is still sick with fright." He indicated to the topmost window of the squat building. A pale girl with long, dark hair jerked her head back behind the curtain._ Who, me eavesdropping? Never._

"Mutilated, you say?"

Her offhand comment was apparently not even worth a disdainful raise of an eyebrow. "Mutilated. No riders anywhere to be seen. Tell me truly that you had no idea that they were in the area."

Ruby was silent. "Truly, I knew not." She said quietly. "When I came upon you that night near the Thames, that was pure luck. I was not expecting to meet a hunter locked in a death clinch right before me."

Ripper picked at the holes in her statement. "You were not expecting to meet a hunter." He said accusingly. "But you were expecting to meet someone."

The woman refused to meet his eyes, and he had all the answer he needed. "You were waiting for someone and you were armed." He hissed.

"I don't-"

Ripper took hold of her arm and hauled her away from the open doors of the smithy. His grip was surprisingly strong for someone so thin and gaunt. "This is where you start speaking, or all bets are off right now. Who were you out to kill?"

"Let go of me!" Ruby ripped herself away from him. "It makes no difference to me whether you threaten me or not. I'm used to it. Back off, you demon filth."

For a moment he looked like he'd been slapped. "What did you call me?"

"There is a cycle." Ruby the Demoness said lowly, taking sure not to let her voice travel back to the other humans, the other humans that still felt safe in the dark. "The strongest and the best are chosen to serve, by the Overlords."

"Serve in what?"

"The oncoming storm." She replied. "The war to end all wars. The war that will end the age long battle between our peoples, and bridge the divide. Most of us will perish, and only a few will be left. The death of magic, enchantment. All gone."

Ripper was confused. "And why do your people… _do _your people actually _want _this war to happen?"

"It is said that our Lord Lucifer will come back and finally destroy his ultimate enemy, resulting in the birth of the New Order." She shrugged. "Not that I believe any of that religious nonsense." She glanced at his face. "But I suppose _you _believe in all that religious nonsense, don't you? Being a Good Christian Englishman and all."

"When everything is gone, what else do you have but faith?" He said this a little stiffly, his face darkening.

"You believe in God? Really? Even after all you have been through?"

"Do you believe in your God?"

Ruby did not answer.

"I believe He is testing me." Ripper said severely. "Forcing me to confront the darkness within and without. He may not be a merciful God, but I have come to believe that darkness cannot exist without light. There is good and there is bad. The two balance each other out, so it is within reason that somewhere in this great world, there exists the opposite of the creatures I kill. The opposite of the creature you are. To keep that balance in sway." His voice dropped even further and he looked up over her head.

"That is how I know that no matter how long I fight, no matter how any innocents die, I shall not win. Neither shall you. The balance will not allow it. This war you speak of may already be happening, and it will never really end."

Ruby had never before heard someone speak so bluntly. Normally their true intentions were hidden behind the flowery words of the day and age. "What else do you want to know?"

"You said that there will be humans fighting in this battle. How can that be so?"

"I told you, Ripper." She said a little impatiently. "The different lords, East and West, play a long game. Each of them are always gathering players. The strongest, smartest, most talented. They are all made into cannon fodder."

"Are you saying that these humans are being made into demons?" His voice was only a little above a whisper, and part of him was saying _yes. That's why you have the dreams. That's why God has punished you by placing you on this terrible path._

"They will be soldiers."

_Soldiers for who? _Ripper wanted to scream, but he held his tongue. "What am I?" He asked.

"What?"

"You said you knew about my dreams. That you could tell me about them. So far you have done aught."

"It will not please you." Ruby said firmly. No, it would not please the Ripper at all. And that was not good, because there had to be a reason that he had acquired such an unusual moniker.

"Tell me."

Miss Ruby wrinkled up her nose. "I can smell it." She said. "There isn't any doubt now."

"What do you smell?"

"Sulphur." The good demoness said bluntly. "Hell. Fire and brimstone. You have been chosen, and your time is coming."

"Time for what?"

"Soon you will be taken from here." Ruby said. "To be tested. The weak will die as they are pitted against the strong. And in the end there will be only one left standing."

"And what of the victor?"

"He or she will be permitted to live. As one of us. Leader of a great army."

He swallowed. This was all new territory for him. "If I am to… be taken so soon, why are you here?"

"Men, never seeing the painfully obvious." The woman snapped. "Think, sirrah. The war to end all wars. East against West. Fire and brimstone! Right now I can live forever, but if this happens, I'm going to die! I don't want to die and I'm sure there's a lot more of us that feel the same!"

"Calm down." The man said awkwardly, looking around.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down. You wanted the truth, so I'm telling you the truth." She growled. Several people had turned to look their way, and a man took a woman's arm to lead her away from the squabbling twosome.

"Miss, please-"

"So I'm Miss now? What happened to 'Demoness'?"

They were starting to attract attention. Too much attention. Ripper was beginning to feel like he had been pushed out on stage without knowing the lines, or, indeed, what the play was about. "Do you want to get us caught? Committed?" As the woman readied herself to fly into yet another tirade, Ripper did the only thing he could think of to shut her up.

He kissed her.

He was perhaps a bit rusty, a bit too hard, but it had the desired effect. Miss Ruby stammered to a stop, her wide eyes fixed on his face, an expression of utter shock on her pretty features.

"Can we go now?"

Miss Ruby swallowed. Meekly nodded her head. Taking his arm they managed to continue along the street, and soon blended back into the crowd.

Kate the Vampire leaned out the doorway of the brothel on the corner, a smile on her face. There he was. The Ripper. And most curiously he had a companion with him! It would be fun to kill him, tear him apart. Or perhaps, before that, it would be even _more _fun to turn her first.

Yes, turn the female, and then kill the Ripper.

* * *

"I am not getting on _that_." Once again, the woman's stubbornness was surfacing. Ripper shook his head, stroking the vibrant mane of the horse. The animal snorted and nudged at his hand with her nose.

"Lillian would never hurt you."

"Animals have an extra sense, Ripper! And I'm still getting over the fact that you called your horse Lillian!"

Lillian snorted and turned her head back to snap at Miss Ruby's dress. "See? I told you!"

"She doesn't like all those ribbons on your skirt." Ripper said patiently. He reached into one of his saddlebags and withdrew a folded set of tan trousers. "Here."

"I'm not wearing your clothes."

"Alright. Go naked. Or not at all." He was starting to get exasperated, and the demoness could hear it. Scowling, she snatched the trousers from his hand and stomped back inside to change. This was one woman who had never been dictated to in her life.

Ripper sighed. "Oh, girl. What have I gotten into now?"

Lillian snorted and shook her head.

"No. Me either."

Ripper looked down at the ground as he waited for Miss Ruby to appear. Every moment he took was another minute that Luther and his brothers could be suffering.

Or worse.

When Miss Ruby reappeared in the sables, she hauled herself up into the saddle behind him without saying a word. Looking back at her, it felt strange to realise that he was now so thin and sinewy that a woman could comfortably wear his trousers without having to tighten her belt right up.

Odd. Ripper nudged Lillian's flanks and she broke into a trot, taking them out into the street. The sun was high in the sky and the Londoners were going about their daily business. Ripper heard Miss Ruby sigh miserably before she pressed her face into his back.

The years had passed, and he had thought he had come to understand the ways of demonkind, and now Miss Ruby had come along and shattered everything he had learned as lore into hundreds of tiny pieces. She sorrowed, she angered, she was compassionate, headstrong and stubborn.

When out of London, Lillian instinctively picked up the pace and Miss Ruby reflectively gripped Ripper around the waist. He gritted his teeth and somehow persuaded his body not to recoil in disgust at the touch of a demon. "Are they real?" He asked.

"Excuse me?"

"My dreams."

"I would be surprised if they weren't." She said earnestly. "Why? What have you seen?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." His look was faraway. "Nothing at all."


	4. Murder Most Foul

When an afternoon of searching the land where the brothers went missing bore no fruit, her hunter decided it was time to bunk down someplace before it got completely dark. She could tell by the slightly haunted look in his eyes as he said it that he really did not want to be caught outside on the streets at night in Old London Town.

The Tawny Weasel was a small inn just on the outskirts of town, and Ripper made reservations as Ruby went to sniff around, under the guise of taking Lillian to the stables despite the fact she really didn't know anything about horses.

The Ripper had not wanted her to wander off, as he said a lone woman could find herself in trouble before she could blink. Ruby had laughed him off, said she could look after herself and was in fact the cause of most of the trouble.

Although he did not say it, Ripper had very little trouble believing that.

As Lillian did when she had first met Ruby, she turned her head and tried to bite the hand of the stablemaster as he lead her away. Ruby's eyes narrowed. She angled her nose up and once again sniffed at the air. No sulphur, but something different. Dirty. Picking up her skirts, she went back into the main body of the inn.

Ripper was sitting at a wooden table in the corner, his own hipflask gripped in his hand. He had disdained the inn's own drink, and Ruby couldn't blame him. He looked miserable. Ruby slid in opposite, hoping he wasn't a morbid drunk. She absolutely abhorred those.

"Something's wrong." She said softly. "Something's very wrong."

Calmly he lifted the flask to his lips and took a cautious sip. "I know." He said.

"You… wait, you _know_? Even when we got here?" Ruby hissed. "Do you often just walk into the lion's den?"

"I'm here with you, aren't I?" He retorted sharply.

Ruby jumped. Shocked, she could feel his hand under the table on her knee. Just as she was about to loudly complain, call him a cad and worse, he pressed a wooden stake into her hand. She looked up at him and he slowly gave her a sly wink. Her fingers curved around the sharpened spike.

"What can I do for you today?" Both of them looked up at the waitress. She was pale and skinny and really too gaunt, and her smile was more of a gnashing of teeth. Both heard the double meaning in her words.

"Sure." Ruby said casually. "How about a stake with a side of kickass?"

Ripper lifted the table and sent it crashing into the faces of the two men that had emerged from the kitchen. Ruby spun the stake in her hand, her knife pinching her skin where it was fastened up her sleeve in its sheath. She would only use it if there were no other choices.

As one, the faces of each person in the Weasel changed into something else. Fangs sheathed human teeth and faces grew more menacing. As the waitress nodded, her clan advanced.

One of the larger vampires rounded on the hunter and Ripper brought his knee up into the vampire's groin. As it bent over in pain, the hunter brought his great sword up and beheaded him. Another advanced on him from behind and he swung around to cut its throat before thrusting his own stake deep into its dead heart.

_Two down, five left._ Ruby felt a small thrill of triumph but the emotion quickly evaporated as two of them advanced on her.

"Little girl," The larger one said, tongue wetting his lips. "Oh what fun we can have with you. Your hunter can watch." And he lunged for her, catching her about the waist and driving her back against the wall. And then he shuddered and stilled.

Before his friend's stunned expression, he dropped to the floor. Dead, this time for good. Ruby had pointed her stake outwards at the very moment that he dove for her. The weight of it felt good against her palm. She smiled and cocked her finger in a 'come hither' motion. Her last vampire snarled and leapt.

His feet didn't have a chance to hit the ground before a flashing blade took off his head.

"That one was mine!" Ruby said, outraged.

"We don't have time for this!" Ripper reprimanded sharply. Spinning on his heel, he faced the last vampire standing, the small, female waitress. "Two against five. We bested you."

"Truly?" The vampire woman said coldly, and then Ripper realised what a massive mistake he had made.

"Get out of here." He ordered Ruby tersely.

"Oh, but-"

"Get out of here _now_."

"Too late."

The innkeeper came first, old Mister Brown. Next came his wife and four children. After the family there were several people who had been staying at the Weasel before they had been turned. "Oh on." Ripper breathed.

"Hold him." The waitress commanded coldly. "Bring her to me."

He struggled. So did she. All it earned her was a sharp slap across the face from the vampire woman. Ruby the Human was panicking, so Ruby the Demon decided it was time to step back in.

Ripper was forced to his knees, his head held firmly in place so he had no other choice but to watch. He could not do anything, and that feeling of overwhelming helplessness cut him deeper than any blade as Miss Ruby was dragged to the counter. She had stopped struggling and her face was a blank.

"And now you will see, Hunter, what happens to all of your kind in the end." The woman wore her vampire face. "You will die. But before you perish, your companion will be ripped from you. Perhaps we shall even keep you alive long enough so that she can rise and do away with you."

Miss Ruby was looking directly at him. Something in her gaze told him to be still, to remain calm. Ripper pulled in a breath through his teeth, realisation coming to him. Miss Ruby may have been able to tell when there were other creatures nearby, but these vampire folk didn't know what she was! _They didn't know she was a demon!_

"Come on, then! Are you going to kill me or just talk about it?" Ruby challenged. The vampire woman turned back to her and Ruby held her head up, straight and proud. She almost felt sorry for them. They had absolutely _no_ idea what they were in for.

The vampire approached, mouth wide. Ruby smiled, satisfied. Another step, then another, and then…

She tried to move her foot, but it would not heed her commands. The vampire woman tried to move her other foot, with much the same results. She lifted her skirts to see what was wrong, and screamed.

Her feet had become part of the floor.

"Let's party." Ruby's eyes flashed, and the man that had been holding her cried out in pain. His hands were now blackened stumps.

"Kill her! Burn the witch!" The vampire woman bellowed, in anger and in fright. "Kill her! The enchantments mean nothing once she is dead! I will have her heart on a plate!"

In a matter of moments, Ripper was forgotten. The men dropped him to heed the frantic cries of their mistress and he scrambled to unearth his sword. Miss Ruby was under attack, and he needed to help her before-

"Get down and close your eyes!" She screamed at him, turning black, sightless eyes on him. Ripper swallowed, took one look at her thunderous face and flung himself to the floor, hands over his head and eyes squeezed firmly shut. He heard Miss Ruby scream something in a language that was foreign to him, and he was buffeted by a fierce, burning wind that threatened to scorch him away.

The screams began. His eyes jerked open as Miss Ruby's hand closed around his wrist. "Come on!"

The inn was on fire, creatures burning and shrieking. Ruby gripped Ripper's hand and ran, making for the doors As they were almost out into the night, a huge shape lumbered up to the doors. Ruby opened her mouth to scream another spell, but her hunter shook her hand frantically. "It's Lillian!"

The hunter's faithful mount had kicked a hole in her stall, and a hole in the man that had tried to restrain her. Her hoof marks were on his tunic, and Lillian's right shoulder was cut and bleeding. "Good girl!" Ripper crowed, though he wasn't entirely sure whether he was referring to the mare or the demon.

Ruby smiled, normal once more. She watched as the hunter dug into one of the bags hanging off Lillian and pulled out a length of rope. "Hold that for me."

Together they firmly bound the doors of the inn closed.

"Some of them will jump out the windows," Ruby cried.

"That's a chance we'll have to take!" Ripper grasped Lillian's reins, heaved himself up into the saddle. He offered a hand to help her, and Ruby grasped it. She noticed his strange look.

"What?"

"'Kickass'?" He questioned. "'Let's party'?"

Ruby looked almost embarrassed. "I spent last year in America."

"Ah. The colonies."

Ruby felt like slapping him for his very English disdain for what she thought was a rather good country. But then again, he was very English.

For a moment he stopped, looked around himself. Ruby heaved herself up on the horse behind him. "What?"

"Shh."

He could hear it now, desperate, despairing sobs. Ripper had heard the type many times before. Nudging Lillian's flanks, his mare took them over to the outbuildings and he once again dismounted, handing the reins over to Miss Ruby.

"If I am not back in ten minutes, do not follow." He instructed. Ruby did not say anything, but her mouth thinned into a hard line.

Hessian sacks of grain and flour were stacked against the walls. Several rats squealed as he kicked open the door. Ripper had to climb up on the stacks to safely cross the room, and as he stepped down at the other side, his boot caught against something.

It was a hand, which was still clutching a sword. Unfortunately that hand was no longer attached to an arm.

Ripper pulled a disgusted face and sniffed the air. The sickly sweet smell of decay beginning to take hold was rife, and he raised a gloved hand to his face before continuing on.

Knowing what he would find did little to lessen the horror of when he did encounter the mutilated corpses, their arms and torsos covered with bites, their faces peeled off. Ripper forced himself not to gag. There were only two corpses, not three. The thought didn't comfort him as much as it should have. Rather it filled him with dead, and a certain amount of despair.

_I have failed._

The door at the other end of the building was barred, so he had to get down on him hands and knees and climb through the chute used for flour processing. He hated the vulnerable position it put him in.

There was blood splattered across the floor of the other side, among the empty beer bottles and food leftovers. Someone had been having a party not that long ago. The sounds had stopped. Ripper climbed to his feet, reaching for the hilt of his sword.

A black shape was huddled in the corner the furthest from the door. In the darkness, Ripper couldn't make out if his hands were bound or not. He had refrained from speaking aloud all this time, refrained from calling to Miss Ruby because he was wary of stirring whatever else might be cowering in the premises, but now he truly had no choice.

"Luther?" He asked softly, and his voice fell flat in the stale air. He took a step forward, and there was a slight hiss as he unsheathed his sword halfway, prepared to whip it out if need be. "Luther, can you hear me?" He knelt down by the young man's side. He was pale and bruised, but otherwise appeared uninjured.

"Luther?"

"Help me," The young man begged, not much louder than a whisper.

Ripper knelt down by his side, placing his blade on the floor. And then he noticed something. One sleeve of Luther's was pushed up, the other down. Fearing what he would find, Ripper peeled the damp material away from the skin.

There was a bloody gash right up his arm. Ripper recoiled at the same time Luther's head snapped up.

"Happy birthday to me." The vampire smiled, fangs glistening. He brought his arms up, and sent Ripper hurling back across the floor, a flour haze rising as he smacked against one of the sacks. "New life, new love. I always knew there was something funny about you, old boy. But my parents would never listen."

He shook his head in a hopeless manner as Ripper spat blood on the ground. "Never believed me, see? Anyway, doesn't matter anymore. I've got a _new _family now."

The vampire bit down into Ripper's throat.


	5. The Lonely Warrior

_**PART TWO: Sam**_

_**Edinburgh, Scotland, 1350.**_

_They wouldn't let her go. No matter how many times she screamed, cursed and threatened them, they would not let her go._

_It was the year of Our Lord 1350 when plague finally reached the valley whence the seer and her clan sheltered. Before the winter was through, more than half the clan had fallen victim to the Black Death, including the seer with the mingled blood that had imprisoned her so. _

_But the seer's youngest son survived._

_Horribly disfigured by the Black Death, he earned his place among the caravan, and insisted on fulfilling his mother's duty. What that was, he never seemed to say, exactly. He would give the people riddles and half-truths, but would never reveal all the knowledge of his kinsfolk. _

_For he had long ago made a blood oath to his brother that he would continue to protect the others for as long as he may live._

_She sat and watched and learned. These humans, they were such contradictory creatures! Such hate but such ability to love. Passionate, yet unmoved. Cruel, yet caring. Moral, but so incredibly immoral. __They valued goodwill to all men, but only when they didn't have to surrender anything themselves._

_But the seer's boy wasn't like that. He would surrender his possessions for others, offer the use of his equipment, and give whatever spare food he had to those who truly needed it. And on the darkest of nights, he would walk forth from the camp, crossbow slung over his shoulder, his face set into grim lines. _

_He knew full well that each time he ventured out; it could easily be his last. And the only thing he was truly afraid of was what would happen if he left his loved ones all alone in the horrible world. _

_Still bound by the seer's enchantments, she watched him. Despite herself, admiration for him began to grow. He fought alone in an endless war, no allies within two week's ride of himself, against a nameless and faceless foe, with weapons that lost their effectiveness almost as soon as they were deployed._

_And she plotted._

_These people would not go quietly into the night. _

_She had to get word to her master. Her master could tell her what to do and how to do it, what to do about the prophecy of the seer. And she could tell all of them about the nature of the humans, how they would keep on fighting long after the war was lost._

_Though she would not say how she admired them. That would be foolish._

_That night the camp was attacked. Caravans were burnt and men and women and children slaughtered as they slept. For the youngest brother was not there to protect them. She saw the faces of the shadow demons, and they told her they had been sent by her master to retrieve her._

_She thanked them for their loyalty to her master, but disdained their company. Turning on her heel, she began to walk away from that place. That place that had been her prison. That place that had become her home._

_Several miles from the burning remains of the caravan, she found the corpse of the youngest brother, still with his sword clutched in his cold hand. Slowly she piled rocks over his still form, before driving his sword into the ground._

_She wrote her words into the blade, where they glimmered like molten gold._

'_Here lies the Lonely Warrior, who faced the horrors of Hell but did not break.'_

_No one would remember him save the one._

_**London, England, 1835.**_

_**January 8.**_

He hated the weather, he hated the people, he hated the clothes, but most importantly, he hated the runaround the Patent Office lad was giving him.

"I _have _an appointment. I've _had _an appointment since late last year." He drew himself up straight, puffed out his chest. The tweed suit he had borrowed from his youngest brother pinched where it was buttoned straight up to his collar.

"And now I _demand _to be let in to see Lord-"

The door to the office swung open, and an impeccably groomed Englishman stepped into the room, puffing on the proverbial pipe. The shorter man stuttered to a stop as the Englishman looked him over. "When you have _quite _finished abusing my secretary-"

The American winced at the very sound of those well rounded and drawn out vowels. "-then shall we get started, Mr Colt?"

_Remind me to never come back here again._

Little Lord Something-or-other sat down back at his desk in his winged armchair, still puffing his pipe. "The committee will come together tomorrow to discuss your patent." He said. "I assume you brought the prototype, Samuel?"

"Yes, sir." Samuel placed a box on the table and opened it. The English lord lent forward over his mahogany desk as this Samuel Colt pulled out a rather intriguing contraption. It was a gun, but such a gun! Perhaps a handspan long, the nozzle was longer then the handle, and there was a curious barrel-like thing sitting almost halfway up the length that seemed to be detachable.

"And this is-?" The Englishman enquired politely, as the American bristled at his very tone.

"This," Colt placed it reverently on the table before the Committee chairman. "Is the future."

"Yes, but what _is _it?"

"It is the first revolving-breech pistol. You see, it can fire more than one round at once, which will be entirely more effective during wartime skirmishes. So much less messing around with gunpowder and suchlike, which will leave a man virtually unprotected for valuable seconds."

The lord took the gun in his hands, and Sam Colt prayed that he wouldn't drop it, shoot a hole in his foot, or otherwise do something stupid and oh, so English. "My full notes and the capabilities are in my submission, sir."

"Indeed." The Englishman said. "I will bring this to the attention of the Committee when we next sit. You are aware of our reply times?"

What could he do but nod? "We will deliberate." _A fancy word for procrastinate._ "If we have not contacted you for an appointment within the month, come back here and ask for me." _Yes, because last time it was so easy. _"Goodbye and good luck, Samuel."

"My friends call me Sam." Sam offered a little lamely, and the Englishman looked up at him with an expression on his face that clearly said _I couldn't give a toss what your sad little friends call you, you filthy little colonial._ So Sam made his excuses, smiled politely, packed up his pistol, and slowly backed out the door before the Englishman could object.

As he left, he was almost certain that Lord Harrowfield's mouth curved into a sly smile.

Once out into the street, Sam took a deep breath and did what any other red blooded American would do. He headed for the nearest bar.

Mug of ale in one hand, and box in the other, Sam didn't feel that well. He had thought that if he presented himself well to the Chairman, he might very well give himself a leg up. Unfortunately, all his plans currently seemed to be falling apart. He had sailed to England many times before, but he had never really noticed how dirty the streets were, how rude the people were.

He smiled as he took another sip of his drink. _I guess some things are the same no matter where you go._

Especially since it appeared that none of them wanted the Colt.

_Maybe I shouldn't have tagged it after myself._ "What a pain in the ass." He muttered under his breath, and then he caught himself. _No more of that sailor language. You're supposed to be a businessman now._ He snorted in mirth. Him, a businessman! He had one little idea during time spent as a sailor, which was turning out to not be a very good one anyway.

It didn't need to be reloaded after each shot! That was good, right? The times a soldier would be unprotected had narrowed significantly, but still no one wanted to hear of it. They all still went for the tried and true methods, instead of going for something scary and new. For a moment Sam wondered whether the people that had thought up these tried and true methods had spent time after time agonising over people's unwillingness to try _their_ ideas.

_What a pain in the ass._

He opened the box momentarily to stare at the Colt, before sighing and packing it away. He tucked the box safely under his arm and tipped the barman. Weaving slightly, he poured himself out into the street.

"Well, my friend." He said aloud, patting the box. "Looks like you and I will be heading back to Good Ol' Hartford earlier than expected." He chuckled sourly and watched the London night population taking over the town, sailors doing shady deals with moneylenders and whores turning tricks for pennies.

Sam set the box down on the bridge railing and stared out over the Thames. Candlelight and moonlight glinted off the deceptively calm waters and he could hear the sounds of horses and carriages clopping by behind him.

_Maybe I should just go back. Get a job in the mines. Marry a nice girl. Be normal._

But Sam knew, as did his friends and family back home, that he did not want to be normal. As a teenager he had run away to see the world, and now he had practically done the same thing, determined to change the future, even a little bit, with his new ideas. The new ideas that everybody else thought were too radical and extreme.

He didn't want to be famous, or rich, just remembered. To feel as though his life meant something in the great scheme of things. To make a difference. To have someone miss him when he was gone.

* * *

The sharp needles of his teeth sank into his top layers of skin even as he battered the vampire with all his might. Luther had become so much stronger now he had been given a new lease of life with Death.

And suddenly the vampire was backing away, withdrawing to a safe distance, wiping the blood off his face and obscenely licking his fingers.

"Come." Luther said, the playful twinkle back in his eye, the same twinkle as when he used to play with Lillian when she was but a foal. "You are the _Ripper_, are you not? Show me the man behind the legend. Show me why the others all call you by that."

"The others?" Ripper asked wearily as he struggled to his feet.

"You've got a reputation." Luther said in a singsong voice. Then he suddenly became serious again. "Have you any idea the publicity if I kill you? I could go around telling people I killed the Ripper. I would be respected."

"You would be feared." Ripper spat, hand against the side of his neck. Luther shrugged.

"Same thing, really."

"Who are you?"

"I'm still Luther. Only smarter. Stronger. Faster. Better." He smiled, and it was his normal smile. It cut Ripper to see him wearing the face of a human, weakened him. And the vampire knew that. But it was the knowledge that the vampire was trying to use him that spurned him into action.

Ripper lunged. Luther darted away, before realising that he was not the hunter's target. "No!" He cried, as Ripper held aloft his sword. "Not this time, you son of a bitch!"

The vampire tackled him around the knees, both of them crashing down. Ripper felt the blade cut into his fingers as he fell upon it. "Ah!"

"How does it feel to be skewered?" Luther hissed. "Does it make you feel special?"

Snarling, Ripper rolled over just as the vampire smashed a bottle into the place his head had been just moments earlier. "You're nothing, nothing! Everything you've ever had has been taken away, bit by bit. And now I'm going to take what's left: your life!"

"If you call this a life," Ripper spat out as he brought his sword slashing down.

The vampire spryly avoided his attack. He wagged his finger the way a schoolteacher would. "Remember, Ripper. Your life might not be the best, but it's a damn slight better then the alternative, six feet under."

_Better than the alternative._ Ripper smiled. "I used to tell you that."

"Yes, you did." Luther said solemnly, and then he attacked.

Instinctively, Ripper thrust up his blade. With a wetly slicing noise, the sword sunk deep into his stomach. Luther's eyes widened in surprise and his mouth gaped open. Partly in surprise and partly in revulsion, Ripper pulled the blade from flesh.

The vampire sank to the floor, clutching his stomach. Ripper raised his sword high over his head. "Go on, do it." Luther snarled. "Bring that fancy knife down and end this for all of us. Show me you aren't really a coward and _fight back_." His face broke into a wide, sickening smile.

"I'd love to be there when you try to explain to my parents what happened. Go on, show that little witch you're with how big and bad the Ripper is." He winked. "Do it. _Do it_."

Despite himself, Ripper slowly lowered his sword. "You have this once chance, and once chance only. You take what's left of your clan and leave, far from here. If I hear you have been turning people, if a breath of scandal reaches my ears, I will find you, and hunt you down one by one." His ugly words were made even worse by the hatred in his voice. "What say you?"

Luther would not meet his eyes. "You're lying." He snarled bitterly. "As soon as I turn my back, you're going to put an arrow in it."

Ripper tilted the vampire's head back with the tip of his sword. "Look at me and tell me I'm lying." He said grimly. "What say you?"

What other choice was there?

"Yes."

So Ripper hit him across the head with the flat of the blade, knocking him out.

When he finally emerged into the yard which was fringed with dancing flames, Miss Ruby looked at him for a long time, before shaking her head in a decidedly exasperated fashion like mothers often did when they thought their children were being exceptionally foolish.

"You _idiot_."


	6. Fate leads the Willing

_Fate leads the willing, and drags along the reluctant._

* * *

"Move aside! Out of the way!" 

Sam jumped to the edge of the bridge, as did many others. The Royal Brigade flashed by him, hooves pounding and cloaks flying. Sam looked up. A plume of dark smoke rose into the sky, and there were flames on the horizon.

"Good God." He gasped. Something was well and truly alight not more than three streets away. He had already spotted people coming out of homes to watch the premises burn, and to slyly evaluate to see if anything would be worth risking life and limb to dart forward to steal.

Sam's morals pricked irritably and his face twisted into a distasteful expression. Damn vultures. If they perished stealing off those in need, they deserved all they got.

He tucked the box back into his coat, his curiosity peaking. Striding smartly across the bridge, he joined the gawking crowd of onlookers staring up at the burning building. Sam could make out the Royal Brigade fighting the flames and shepherding out looters. He closed his eyes and shook his head hopelessly.

As he raised his eyes once more, something unusual caught his attention, and he spun to watch. Silhouetted against the flames, a lone horse thundered wildly down the street. A moment later, he was certain he could see a woman slip out from under the building's back fence. Seconds later she was followed by a man, and she grabbed his hand as he stumbled almost drunkenly.

Swiftly, not drawing attention to themselves, the duo vanished back over the bridge. No one else even looked up at the two fleeing the scene.

"Excuse me. Make way." Sam pushed his way back through the crowd. His sense of adventure was tingling. Perhaps he would make a name for himself afterall!

Breaking into a run, he drew open the box and plunged his hand into it, his fingers curling about the Colt. Snapping the gun open, he pulled out a handful of ammunition and loaded it. Something strange was going on, and just because Lord Harrowfield did not want his gun gave him no reason not to use it should he need to.

"Hey, you! Stop!"

But they were gone. Just like that. Sam skidded to a stop, panting. He looked around wildly. Gone! They could not just be gone! Could they?

However, before he could take another step forward, someone seized a handful of his hair, jerking his head back savagely. Before he could even form the slightest curse, a bloodied blade was tight against his throat.

"What agents have sent you to finish me off?" A gasping, hoarse voice hissed in his ear. "Speak, mangy cur. Or prepare for me to loosen your tongue."

"I – I –" Sam did not know what to say or do. With this dirty sword pressed against his neck, all coherent thought seemed to have deserted him.

"Calm, man." A woman reprimanded in a stern voice. "Believe me when I say that vanity would not permit an agent of Hell to reside in such a… portly body."

"Who – what –" Sam could not manage to push anything else past his lips beside garbled words. He was paralysed in the spot, certain that these two would slit his throat and take whatever valuables currently on him.

_And the Colt._

"Speak!" The man bellowed, anger pulling out the cockney edge in his voice. Sam now had no doubt that these were the ones that had fled the fire, stepping to and from the darkness almost as if they had cloaked themselves in it.

"I'm just some guy from America trying to make it big!" Sam burst out, his voice higher than he would have liked. "I'm not working for no one, just trying to get a patent passed for this thing, see?" He held up the Colt, ashamed to see his hand quaking. "See!"

"Liar!"

"Rip, I think he's telling the truth. Look at the man, he's about to wet himself." There was barely contained laughter in the woman's voice.

_I am not! _Sam almost burst out against his better judgement, and that one moment of indignant outrage provided him with a minute of startling clarity.

_We're in front of the Patents Office._

And a light still burned in an office that Sam knew belonged to the amicable Lord Harrowfield.

"Bandits!" Sam roared. "Thieves and bandits! They have burned down the inn, and intend to do murder!"

"Quiet, you fool." The sword was tight against his throat once more, nicking his flesh.

"You are the fool," Sam hissed, and shoved the Colt underneath his arm, finger tight on the trigger.

Everything seemed to happen at once. There was a loud bang and a grunt of pain. The sword jerked away from his throat and Sam jumped forward. The woman darted to catch the other man in her arms as he fell and the Office Guards came running. The office doors were flung wide, and Lord Harrowfield was standing there, his face furious.

For a moment they all stood frozen in the bizarre montage, and then the woman looked up at the lord, an utterly terrified look on her face. He looked back at the woman, his face completely blank. An then an expression of uncontrollable fury appeared like a dark cloud. His hands clenched, his eyes darkened, and for one insane moment, Sam thought he mouthed something at her.

_This time you're through._

The lord drew himself up to his full height. "Arrest them!" He bellowed, looking entirely too pleased for Sam's liking.

Sam raised his hands. "Not me! They're the ones! I'm Sam Colt, I saw you earlier!"

"They are the ruffians! The three of them will hang!"

"No!" Sam cried. "Sir!"

The woman said something to her man, and she slung his arm around her shoulders. "Come with us!" She screamed at Sam.

"And die? Not likely, you miserable harlot!" He spat.

"You have two choices, you ill-bred moron. Die now or die later!"

Sam glanced back toward the lord. Stared at the guard withdrawing their batons. Ticked his look back to the lady with her outstretched hand. Setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders, he knew what he must do. He just hoped he wouldn't live to regret it.

Reaching out, he grasped her hand.

And then the three of them ceased to exist.

Or that was what seemed to have happened. The guards stumbled to a stop, looking around themselves in bafflement.

"They are gone." One of the men said in utter confusion.

Shaking, the other man began to feverishly cross himself. "Witches!" He cried, his voice quavering uncontrollably. "Call a priest." He spun three times in a circle before spitting over his shoulder.

"Stop that superstitious nonsense." Lord Harrowfield snapped, slapping the man over the back of the head. "Regan your senses, man."

Sam's jaw dropped, not comprehending. He attempted to pull his hand from the lady's grasp, but she held on grimly. At the look on her face, Sam stopped trying to escape her. She gripped his hand, and he could see red marks appearing on his skin. Her other arm was tight about her man's shoulders. "What the hell have you done?" He hissed.

"Shh," she hissed back.

Lord Harrowfield stopped. Turned. "Did you hear that?" He demanded of the guard that hadn't fallen into a religious stupor.

"Hear what, sir?"

"That sound, you incumbent moron!" Harrowfield shouted.

The guard cringed. "I heard nothing, my lord."

Harrowfield looked about ready to burst a seam. "Get out of my sight!"

The lord continued to prowl the yard as the two rebuked doormen went back to their posts. "I know you're there, you whore." He breathed softly. "Your glamour will not always hide you, you know. You miserable traitor."

The lady's hand tightened around Sam's, and he had to bite his lip to not cry out in pain.

"I looked up to you once, before you turned back to _them_. I wanted to be just like you." Lord Harrowfield continued on. "What have you become, Ruby? What have you let yourself become?" And with that last parting shot, the lord left, shutting himself inside the building once more.

The three of them were frozen in the spot for several long minutes, until the final horses left the building. And then the woman, this Ruby, dropped Sam's hand. "Can you move?"

_I'm still wondering whether I should. _As Sam opened his mouth to frame a reply, he noticed that she was not addressing him but the man that had taken the bullet in the side. He was scruffy and unkept with a wild edge to him, and Sam had to wonder what this witch woman saw in him.

"I can make myself." He pushed out through gritted teeth, leaning on the woman as he attempted to rise.

The witch woman looked up balefully at Sam. "Don't stand there gawping, boy. Give me a hand." She demanded. As he made no move to get any closer, she pulled in another breath. "It was your infernal contraption that has done this, the least you can do is help clean up the damage."

"I – I can't. I've got to go back to my room and-" And what, he didn't know exactly. All he knew was that these two were going to get him into trouble. Maybe even killed. And he did not want to get killed, not now.

"Good luck." The injured man spoke up. Sam noticed now that there was blood dribbling down his neck from a wound that looked an awful lot like a bite. "By the morn, this tale will be all over London. You will be a wanted man. There may even be a bounty on your head." He gave a humourless smile as if he knew about such things. "Godspeed." He ducked his head down to whisper instructions to the woman before the two of them began to walk away. Sam stared after them, his heart racing milefast, and his hands shaking.

They were almost gone, only really shadows in whatever moonlight had managed to filter down through the thick clouds.

"Wait." Tucking the Colt into the back of his trousers, he hurried to catch them up. "There is no way we can cross London on foot without being seen."

"Perhaps." The other man winced. "On the ground. But higher up…" Sam followed his pointing finger up to the rooves of the squat brick buildings. "No one will notice."

Sam gaped. "Are you suggesting we run across the rooves? Are you insane?"

"I am not suggesting it." The Englishman said stiffly. "I am telling you that is what we are going to do. Now get up that drainpipe before-"

"Before I force you up through it." The witch woman finished, clicking her fingers in a menacing way.

And so Sam gulped, rolled up the sleeves of his suit, and plunged headfirst into the adventure that he had always wanted.

* * *

Sam had seen his bullets go into cloth dummies. He had seen them shatter wooden targets and fired into walls. Seeing the utter mess his bullets made when they went into human flesh was another matter entirely. And seeing said bullet come out was as equally as nauseating if not more so. 

_One can only imagine what it's like for the man on the receiving end. Buck up, Sammy._

Sam forced himself to watch. He felt that it was all he could do for causing the man undue duress, especially since he hadn't looked too flash to begin with, with his hollow cheeks and tired eyes.

The Englishman reached up, and wrapped his calloused hands around the supporting rod running through the inn, pulling his body taunt. He refused to cry out, and Sam admired him for his pain endurance threshold. His chest and back were pitted with more scars than a gentleman should rightly have, and for a moment the American wondered whether he had fallen in with spies or assassins.

The woman approached, pliers in hand, and Sam almost gagged at the realisation that she was simply going to reach in and pull it out. A fleeting thought crossed his mind and he wondered whether the bullet had damaged anything important going in, but he dismissed the idea almost as soon as he had it. There was no use in worrying about that now.

"When and if you want to scream, scream." The lady instructed. "Don't go being all manly on me and bottle it all up. The last thing I need now is you biting through your tongue." She gave a sharp smirk. "You're enough of the strong and silent type as it is."

Apparently the Englishman did not appreciate her attempts to lighten the situation. "Just pull it out, woman."

Her mouth thinned into a hard line, and for a moment Sam was certain she was about to throw back another insult between his teeth, but then she stepped forward and pressed the pliers against his flesh, using her fingers to probe for the bullet.

"Ah!"

The witch woman's hands and the floor were swiftly covered in a light spattering of blood, and Sam felt almost visibly ill, but he could not force his eyes away from the macabre spectacle.

A shower of dust rained down on the three of them, and he looked up. The reinforcing rod was shaking with the force it was being gripped with. As wiry and undernourished as the Englishman first appeared, there was strength in his arms that was all too capable of pulling the rod from the wall.

"Got it." The woman said grimly, her hand darting away to grab a cloth. Pressing the cloth against the wound, she pulled. And with one parting curse, the bullet was out.

The Englishman's hands came down to press the cloth against the wound. The lady inspected the lump of metal in her pliers before taking it in her fingers and tossing it back to Sam. Sam fumbled catching it, and the bullet left a trail of blood down his white shirt.

"Wouldn't want you loosing that now, would we?" She still sounded spiteful and vaguely protective. Sam dropped the bullet, not sure what to do.

"Are you going to… stitch the wound?" He asked weakly.

The Englishman shook his head. "Take to much time. Dressings would need to be rechanged too often."

"Ready?" The witch woman asked him, all humour gone from her expression.

"Do it."

Ruby took a breath. Steadied herself. And then she pulled the red-hot poker from the fire.

There was a sizzle of burning skin, and Sam pressed his hand to his mouth.


	7. Shadows and Lies

_Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future._

* * *

_**Kensington, England.**_

_**January 9.**_

Her name was Bethany, and she was perfect. Sam was smitten the moment she looked his way and smiled, with her long dark hair and her slim, but not too skinny figure.

She was also a widow with two small sons, but Sam was willing to overlook that fact. The boys, Justin and Jared, were bright and full of life, although their mother often despaired about their ability to get themselves into trouble.

She had sworn never to remarry after her husband's death, as she said she could not take another heartbreak like the first, but Sam's suspicions reared up and howled when she greeted the Ripper with a great hug and kiss. "You're still alive!"

"You sound surprised."

"Aye." She nodded, her dark eyes twinkling merrily.

The Englishman turned back to his two companions. "This is Bethany Elkins." He introduced. "My sister-in-law."

The other woman stepped forward to introduce herself. She held out a hand. "I am Ruby. This is Sam Colt. He's from America, but don't hold that against him." She slapped Sam on the back and Sam scowled.

Bethany etched a curtsey to her. "Ma'am." She said respectfully.

"Oh, no. Just 'Ruby'. I get enough of the 'Miss' and 'Lady' from him." She indicated Ripper.

"You must forgive us, Ruby. It was just how we were raised. Expected to extend courtesy to the nobility, though we would never see a scrap of it back."

Ruby looked down at herself. She was still in her red embroidered black silk. "No, I'm not a lady. I just like wearing the clothes."

Both women laughed at that.

"And what, pray tell, brings you blowing back down my way after all this time?" She turned back to the Ripper.

"Beth, we need somewhere to stay for a time." He sighed as he said it. "Nothing fancy. Some blankets in the loft will do. We can catch our own food."

"Catch our own food?" Sam echoed incredulously, and Ruby rolled her eyes.

"There could be dangerous people behind us, though." Ripper warned. "So it's entirely your choice."

Bethany did not hesitate. "Without you, both my boys would be deal. And I will have no one in Britain say that Bethany Elkins makes her guests sleep in the stables."

Sam felt a relieved smile wash over his face. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Tis no bother. This one is my family." She touched his arm. "Are you still calling yourself by that ridiculous tag, or can I finally use your name-"

"Mother! Mr Tavish had no sprouts at the market today and Mrs Tavish gave me and Jare a cake to give you and Jimmy says happy birthday-" The news came out in a rush, as only a child could do. And two sets of eyes peered around the door.

"Uncle!"

Ripper threw his arms wide to catch his nephews in his arms. His smile smoothed the sad lines from his face and made him look almost handsome. A strange emotion attempted to worm it's way up Ruby's throat as she watched. _I make a wish upon a star…_

"What did you get us this time, Uncle?" Justin asked seriously, beginning to systematically search through the pockets of Ripper's great black coat.

"Do you have more stories for us, Uncle?" Jared asked in a whisper, his wide eyes shining with excitement.

"Calm down, little fish." Bethany laughed. "Let's get Uncle through the door before he drops."

And so, shepherded by the children, the Ripper, Sam and Ruby were welcomed into the Elkins family home.

* * *

Bethany had insisted that the three of them bathe before they joined he and her sons for supper, and Ruby could find no fault with her request. The three of them were encrusted with unmentionables, and her two companions were starting to get on the nose a bit. 

Ripper was in the bath the longest, no doubt soaking his aches away, and when he emerged once more, Ruby had to look at him twice to see if he was indeed the same man.

"You're _blonde_?" There was a surprised tone in her voice before she turned back into her usual sarcastic, stoic self. "I hoped that had been just a myth," She turned back to the table, hitching a leg up on the back of a chair, exposing a great deal of her calf in the process. Sam coloured and turned away.

Ripper's eyes narrowed, aware she was about to take another dig at him. "What myth?" He asked cautiously.

"The one about Englishmen never bathing." She said slyly.

Sam almost drowned in his tea. Even Bethany smiled as she sliced cake for her two boys.

Ripper rose to his own defence. "There's hardly been the time for that sort of thing, what with the company I keep." He shot back at her.

"Darling, don't flatter yourself. I've seen it _all_ before." She raised her eyebrow in a suggestive way that made Ripper feel decidedly uncomfortable.

"Must you always have the last word?"

"Let's see… yes."

"You are insufferable."

"But you still love me." Ruby teased. Ripper's mouth thinned, but before he could say anything, the Elkins boys threw themselves into the room.

"I said they could have one of your stories before bed." Bethany sounded almost apologetic.

One of the boys sat in Ripper's lap, and the other crawled up by his side. "Alright. What will it be tonight?"

"The Lady and the gypsy curse." Jared said instantly.

"You big girl's blouse." Justin hissed. "The Living Sword and the peasant."

Ripper let the boys' ague amongst themselves about which of his stories was the best for a moment before he intervened. "How about a new tale?"

"Yes!" Jared said instantly. Justin looked doubtful. "What about?"

"It's about two brothers and a serpent king." Ripper said, lowering his voice and making the two boys instinctively crowd closer to hear every word. "The two brothers who swore they would fight the darkness until their dying day."

Ruby couldn't help but look over to the bench where the three of them were sitting. _"-the youngest brother said to the serpent king 'You may kill me, but my spirit will live on in the next'-"_ His storytelling voice was different to his commanding voice, soft and smooth. Right then, she understood why these boys loved their uncle so.

"What happened to their father?" She asked suddenly. Glancing at Bethany's face, she lowered her gaze. "If I may ask, that is."

"You may." The other woman also averted her gaze. "He – died. Before Jared was born."

"Died?"

"Murdered." Bethany looked up, and her eyes were dry and clear.

Ruby blinked. "What happened?"

"I am disinclined to say. Surely a gentle miss such as yourself would have had no experience with the creatures of the Devil." The Englishwoman said softly. "You would think me mad, and when I am in the asylum, there will be none to look after my boys."

"Ripper would come back for them."

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Aye, and what that would mean for my boys, I cannot say. I love my brother-in-law, but I wholly do not expect he will live out the year. He has lost the will to live, since his dear wife died in that fire."

That perked Ruby's interest. "He was _married_?"

Bethany raised her eyebrows. "You are rather taken with him, yes?"

For the first time, Ruby was rendered temporarily speechless. "He strikes me as an interesting sort." She said finally. "There is something alluring about a man with secrets."

"True." Bethany nodded wisely. "So I thought when we first met. He was the one that introduced me to his brother, though whether or not he did it intentionally he always refused to say." There was a mysterious twinkle in her eyes and Ruby gave a wide smile.

"What was his name?" She asked. "Your husband?"

"Dean." Bethany said. "As wild as his brother was reserved. Looking at the two of them together, you would not place them as brothers, or even friends." She glanced back over to the Ripper. _"-the serpent king rose up over the plains, and he roared out. 'You will not defeat me. I will see you in your graves before the end'-" _

"The one you call Ripper, he wasn't always like that, either."

"Like what?"

"Feral." The woman said shortly, and Ruby had to agree with her blunt statement.

"What happened?" Ruby asked. "What happened to you both?"

"Death. Lies. Shadows. I was raised as a good Christian girl, but when I needed my Lord most, he was not there." Bethany said. "The devils of the past are best left alone."

"Unless they are also the devils of the present." Ruby said quietly. "In my time, I have seen… so many terrible things. I have buried… too many people. More than half what I have done, I wish I could forget." And it was not until that moment that Ruby realised exactly _how_ hard she wished she could forget. Bethany patted her hand comfortingly.

"We all do things we come to regret. I know I have done my share."

"You don't understand." Ruby replied. "There's no way you could."

Bethany looked at Ruby as the other woman stared resolutely at a candle halfway across the room. "His eyes burned like fire." She said suddenly, and Ruby looked up.

"What?"

"His eyes burned like fire, and yet the world around was so dark." Bethany whispered. "I saw him step forth, the Dark One. He… he laughed, and said that the gates had been opened and the war was coming."

Ruby gripped the arms of her chair. _The gates were open! How the heck did that happen?_

"He said it was time for all the people like us to die, and Dean… The devil took up his own sword and plunged it through his heart."

"I'm sorry." Ruby offered. It was the only thing she could think of to say.

"Ha! Surely you don't believe in all this preposterous speak of _devils _and _demons_." Sam spoke up, putting down his cup. "They are all tales thought up to get small children to wash up and be inside before nightfall."

"You don't believe in evil."

Sam pondered his answer for a moment. "I believe in the evil that men do." He said. "But to consider that there are other powers out there, just put on this earth to cause pain and suffering…"

"Not all of them do." Ruby said softly.

"Do you believe in God, Mr Colt?" Bethany asked in a cool voice.

He paused before speaking. "Doesn't mean I have to like his sense of humour." He said gruffly.

"You really are an abrasive, infuriating little man, aren't you?" Ruby finally snapped. "Look around you, Sam. Why do you think Lord Harrowfield's eyes turned black? Why did the guards suddenly stop chasing us?"

"Trick of the light." Sam grunted. "It was dark. Those idiots could have easily missed us."

"They are real, you moron!" Ruby shouted, rising to her feet. Bethany looked up at her, a confused look on her face. Over her shoulder, Ripper chased his nephews to bed before closing the door behind himself. His face was set and stony.

"They're only stories!" Sam scoffed. "Dear lady, were you anyone else, you would have earned a one way ticket to the asylum."

"As would I." Bethany said coldly.

"And I." Ripper put in quietly.

Sam looked around at the ring of faces, eyebrows raised. _They're all lunatics! _"Ah, this is a trick, isn't it? You're all really spies and 'devil' is a codeword for something, right?"

"You are a fool." Ruby said. "You can either accept the truth now, or keep denying the fact until you are captured and torn apart. Harrowfield saw you with me, and for that he will hunt you down."

"You _are _spies!"

"No." The woman shook her head, her eyes on the ground.

"Don't." The Ripper growled.

"I have to." She said, and raised her face. Her eyes. Her eyes were…

Sam stumbled back, his back against the wall. "Holy mother of Jesus."

Bethany's reaction was more violent. "Demon whore!" She shouted, all the blood draining from her face. Ripper attempted to grab her arm as she backed past him. "Beth, just listen-"

_CRACK!_

She hit him. Not the open-handed slap one might expect from a lady in genteel society, but a clenched fist to his cheekbone. Ripper fell against the table, the edge digging into his back. He rubbed at his face. "I see my brother taught you a few things." He said wryly, rubbing blood off his fingers.

Bethany, however, would not have any of it. "How dare you bring that freak into my home?" She demanded. "After what happened to my husband, your _brother_. On second thoughts, are you even my brother-in-law?"

Sam stared at the twosome, completely lost. Engrossed as Bethany and the Ripper were, he was the only one to see Ruby slip out the door. Thinking the two wouldn't mind, he went to follow her.

"Ho, wait!"

The woman stopped at the edge of the paddock, and leaned over the fence. Sam finally caught up with her. "What do you want?" She snapped.

"Eh, me, I'm a creature of curiosity." He shrugged. "Strange and bizarre creatures appeal to me."

The woman laughed humourlessly, flicking a speck of dirt from out under her fingernails. "Strange and bizarre. That's me."

Sam winced. "That's not what I meant." He stroked a lock of hair out of his eyes. "So you're really – for real?"

"Uh huh."

"Well." The American said. "I, for one, am still convinced that you are some sort of a spy, albeit one with rather unusual abilities. Can you do that eye thing again…?"

"Do I look like a trick pony to you?" Ruby asked incredulously.

"Er, right. Sorry." Sam paused again. "So, spy, what exactly is your connection to Lord Rupert Harrowfield?"

"I knew him. A long time ago." Ruby said, a faraway look on her face. "We did everything together, and he was my best friend." _If you can say that about us. _

"What happened?"

"I did something I shouldn't have, and he hasn't spoken to me since." She answered. _This is my last chance to redeem myself. Should I fail, I will be cast out. _

"Do I hear a moment's hesitation?" Sam asked. "Do you _have _to go back?"

_I never thought of that._

"It's my job, Sam."

"But every so often you have to take a vacation from your job, right?"

"I don't think my master would see it quite that way."

The two of them stood in silence for a moment longer. "What are you doing with him?" Sam asked finally.

"Who?"

"_Him_. The Ripper."

"Oh, well. I suppose he hasn't chased me off yet because he feels like he owes me something."

"Or he thinks you might be of some use to him." Sam said quietly.

Ruby peered at him sharply. "You're very perceptive when you want to be, Samuel Colt."

Sam gave a sunny smile. "I'm just full of surprises." He glanced back toward the house. "I suppose we better go back and see whether Bethany's stopped throwing things at your boy yet."

Ruby frowned. "He's not my boy."

Sam just shrugged.


	8. Two Brothers

_You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you._

* * *

Ruby identifying herself was the last straw for poor Bethany Elkins. She threw them out with some particularly stinging words and forbade the Ripper from ever seeing his nephews ever again. 

Ripper did not look surprised. He had long ago accepted how easily his luck seemed to change, and he accepted that. He didn't always have to like it, though. _They're better off without me around, _he told himself as they waved tearfully at him from the windows. _Much better off._

The three of them had been stuck sleeping in an apple orchard two farms down from the Elkins house, and Sam and Ripper had taken turns on watch. Sam still doubted that what they were looking for was demons, mainly because then everything he had been taught his whole life would be turned on its head.

And Ruby. The good devil and her silent companion.

The next morning, they had begun walking back to the nearest train station, when Ruby spoke up. "I'm sorry, you know."

"We all lose our temper."

"That's not what I meant." There was another pause. "I have something important to tell you."

"I'm taking the train to the shipyard." Sam spoke out. "I'm going home. I can get a patent there easy."

"We all say things we don't mean."

"But I _really _need to tell you something."

"Maybe I'll stop gunmaking all together. Go out somewhere nice. Maybe Wyoming."

"_Would everybody just stop!_" Ruby shouted. There was a crack of power in her voice, and both the Ripper and Sam stopped to stare back at her. Ruby glared at them both for a moment, mustering up as much indignation as she could, but as she took in Ripper's little bundle of supplies tied on the end of the sword over his shoulder and the way Sam had fastened his suspenders to tie clean shirts to his back, she couldn't keep it in.

She doubled over in laugher.

Ripper's eyebrows rose and he exchanged another bemused glance with Sam, the kind of glance that clearly read _this woman's nine kinds of crazy!_

There were tears in her eyes. Finally she ran a hand across her face and dropped into a serious expression. "Alright. Hysterics attack over now." She took in a breath. "But seriously, I have something to tell you."

"Well, that's nice, but I've really got to get to the docks." Sam said.

"Who was talking to you? Run along if you will." The witch woman said dismissively, and Sam gave a dark scowl. He had thought they had reached some sort of an accord the other evening when Bethany Elkins had ejected them not-so-ceremoniously from her home.

"There we are." The dirt road joined another, which was cobbled, and Sam smiled in relief as he saw the station. Ruby watched him walk forward and engage the ticket collector in a conversation about how soon would he would be able to get a train that would take him to the docks. While it was true that he was an annoying little man, she would miss his light heartedness.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked the Ripper.

He shrugged. "I have a friend in Southampton. I can stay there for a while."

"What about me?"

"I am sure he'll love you." And the way he said it made Ruby feel decidedly uncomfortable.

"Um, who it he? Um, just in case we've met before."

"Harvelle." Ripper said. "Simon Harvelle. He's come over from America to research an artefact he recently found."

"Never heard of him."

"That's probably a good thing."

Ripper paid for both their tickets to Southampton. Ruby decided not to ask him how he got the money, because she knew she'd get either no answer or an outright lie. The stationmaster seemed a little worried about Ripper's sword even though it was sheathed, and he ushered them onto the platform.

Ruby knew that out there somewhere was Sam, catching the same train to a different stop, but she lost him in the smoke. It would probably be the last time the three of them met anyway. "Is it always like this?" Ripper asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Mostly. Haven't you ever travelled by rail before? They are already talking about a track that leads right down Britain. The Great Western Railway, they're calling it."

"It will never catch on."

"I don't think so either."

"So… what did you want to talk to me about?"

"As soon as we're in our compartment." Ruby smiled at a grizzled old man walking by. "People are looking at us strangely."

"Happens to me all the time." Rippe muttered partly to himself. "Probably wondering how a young flower like yourself is with a dried up old fossil like me."

"You're not old." Ruby said absently.

It was easier to get onto the train and get a good compartment without luggage. For a moment Ruby wondered what they would do for food and possibly clothes when they reached Southampton, but reasoned that Ripper would just steal some more money. There was something about that notion that just didn't sit right with her, and Ruby wondered at it.

Ripper sat close to the window, and Ruby crouched down opposite. "Now, what did you want to tell me?"

Ruby's face dropped into serious lines. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

"Excuse me?" His eyebrows rose.

"I got up at past midnight last night and to were just sitting there even though Sam was on watch."

The Ripper sighed, and searched though the pockets of his coat. Ruby suspected it was so he would have something to do. "I have never really slept a night through since…"

"Your wife died?" Ruby asked grimly. "Bethany told me."

"Damn Bethany never could keep anythnig to himself." Though he really couldn't muster up the anger to go along with the statement. "It all started a couple of years before we met."

"The dreams?"

Ripper nodded.

"The stories you've been telling your nephews, they were all true, weren't they? You're the youngest brother." Ruby said in sudden realisation.

"You've caught me." His mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Little boys like dark and morbid tales. And perhaps they will remember my stories and realise what they've been told all along."

"So they can fight." She nodded.

"So they can protect themselves." He corrected sharply. "I would never wish this life on anyone, not even my worst enemy. I do this because there is no going back. I do this because it is all I know how to do now."

"And you promised your brother." Ruby said. She noticed an echo of familiarity around his words. Like she had heard it all before. Like it would not be the last time she heard it.

"My brother was a fool, but he kept me alive. It's the least I can do to repay him." Ripper replied. They both lapsed into silence. Then Ripper spoke once more. "My dreams…" He said. "When will this arch demon come for me?"

Ruby shook her head. "I cannot say. Sometimes he tests them young, but others he lets mature, lets their powers develop. I wont be there to help you."

Ripper did not reply. "But I can give you something that might help." She reached into her dress and pulled a sheathed weapon from her sleeve.

"You would give me your knife?" Ruby looked sheepish for a moment and it dawned on Ripper. "You _stole_ it."

"So what if I did?" She flared at once, then she forced herself to calm. "This blade," She lent forward, indicating for Ripper to do the same. "This blade belonged to a very powerful leader in our world."

The hunter did not say anything. "He forged it just in case any of his servants decided to rise up against his tyranny and overthrow him. Any demon the blade slices, any lesser creature it touches, will wilt and die right before your eyes. Take it, and use it when Azazel comes for you."

"Azazel." Ripper said grimly. "Of course. 'Impudent to God'."

Ruby nodded, and Ripper couldn't help but notice that her eyes were over-bright. "You really want me to stick this bloke, don't you?"

"He's going to do something in the future… I can't really explain it, you know?" She lent forward, her hands clenched on her knees.

Ripper nodded. He knew the feeling all too well. His hand closed around the knife she had offered. "This is what you befriended me for. So I could kill Azazel for you." His tone was half unsurprised and half insulted that she had not chosen to trust him with this information before now.

"My enemies are your enemies also." Ruby said silkily. Ripper looked down at the blade. He could almost feel it twisting and warping underneath his fingers, yearning, _aching_ for blood.

_It's alive._

"What is it made from?"

For a moment Ruby's face clouded over, as though she was struggling with the decision whether she should tell him or not. "Blood, sweat, and tears." She said finally, and Ripper just looked at her.

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Blood, sweat and tears." He mused. _It has to be a riddle of some sort. _"I had just assumed that there would be more to it than that."

"There is." Ruby said instantly. "Much, much more. But novices start with the basics." She lent back and looked at him.

"Why me?" Ripper asked the very question that had burned at the centre of his being since his beloved wife was taken from him.

"Because you're the one." The witch said. "You're the chosen one, and there's no escaping it." She shook her head slowly from side to side.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, dear, that you might be the one that leads demonkind from Hell. You might be the leader of a great army that will start the war of all wars. You might be the one that becomes one of us, who wins the great storm for us."

Ripper winced at the meaning in her words. _I would become a demon?_

"There must be some way not to…"

"Yes. Escape the tornaments and kill Azazel."

He narrowed his eyes at her use of the words _tornaments. _"What side are you on, Ruby?" He asked her sharply. "Their side or my side?"

"_My _side." She answered.

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment. "If it's any help." Ruby said. "I expect you to give me my knife back."

Ripper was silent.

"Get some sleep." She said. "I'll keep watch."

Ripper lent back on his coat. "I doubt even you can keep watch over my dreams." He said. "As soon as Azazel or whomever else finds out about your subordinance, you will be killed. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes." Ruby finally answered after the Ripper had drifted off to sleep. "That's why I'm betting on you for a win."

* * *

_There's a story, boy. I wonder if you've heard it before._

_It's about two brothers, one who is strong and brave, and the other resourceful and clever. Together these brothers own the darkness and strike fear into the dead heart of each evil creature that's out lurking in the night._

_Together they have laughed in the face of Death over and over, taunting him to a fury. For Death cannot hold them for long._

_Until the night the brothers go out to do battle with the Serpent King, and only the youngest brother returns home, his heart laden with sorrow. _

_For a long time the youngest brother does not speak, so filled with the evils he has seen that the world around him seems dead and dark. All he lives for is to see the Serpent King that murdered his brother dead at his feet._

_For part of him perished when his brother died that day._

'_That's sad. Why do all your stories have to be sad?'_

'_Because that is how this life is. Now, listen to the rest.'_

_He prays to all the Good Gods out there that he may not succumb to the darkness in his heart. He prays for the will to live on, and the Good Angel comes. She gives him hope, and purpose once more. She helps him see that he is hurting the ones dearest to him. He can finally see the duty his brother left for him._

_To continue hunting the devils of the dark places._

_So the youngest brother and the Good Angel left on a noble quest, to hold back the tide of the Dark Ones until Hope comes again. _

_God willing, they will prevail._


	9. Prodigal Son

_All the world is a stage_

_And all the men and the women merely players_

_They all have their exits and entrances;_

_Each man in time plays many parts._

* * *

**_Louisiana, 1801._**

_Did not her kind have as much of a right to life as theirs did? Was that not the right of every creature? They weren't so different, under the surface. All any of them wanted was to live, to touch, to feed, to feel invigorated and powerful._

_Did that really make demonkind any different to humans?_

_They were in a house. Her master had sent her here, along with a male once known as Rupert and a female who still was known by her name of Susannah. They were their master's chosen, and they reveled in their status and power. The three were here to retrieve something that had been taken from her master's master._

_A knife of unheard power._

_They killed the man and the woman. The hunter and his wife. They fought, and bravely, and Ruby wondered why, when they knew they could not win. She admired the man, and told him so before she tore out his throat._

_Then Susannah found the child. He was shaking and his face was wet with tears, but he stared up at them defiantly. _

"_You have him." Susannah offered him graciously to Ruby. "A child of a hunter cannot be suffered to live."_

_She was handed the knife. The child did not cry as she raised it above her head._

_Son of our enemies. Bastard._

He is a child.

_He will grow to kill our kind!_

He is a child.

_And she could not give the killing blow. Her indecision caused the blade to glance off-target down the side of his face._

_The boy screamed, and jerked himself back from her. His foot caught on the edge of the mat, and he cartwheeled his arms before tumbling back down the hard wooden staircase. Once on the landing he did not move._

"_Fool!" Susannah reprimanded. "One cut. Even that shouldn't have been beyond you."_

_Ruby looked at her, and said the only thing she could. "He was a child."_

_**En route to Southampton, England, 1835.**_

_It's time. Come._

The voice resonated. He clamped his fingers over his ears, but the words echoed emptily in his skull. The sound, he finally realized, was not from the outside world, but from within his own head.

_It's time. Come to me._

And he saw the lands spread out beneath him, seas and rivers and mountains and plains. _Time to find anew what never should have been discovered._

He was standing on the very edge. Heat rose and scalded his face and he turned away.

_Look._

He didn't want to. He could _feel _the hate bubbling up to him, he could _feel _the despair rubbing against his face like a damp cloth.

_Look._

He opened his eyes.

_Down._

The pit opened up before him, fiery tendrils reaching out like fingers to claim its prize.

_He screamed._

Ripper jerked up in his seat and out of the nightmare, his hands clenched around his coat. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes before he noticed Miss Ruby staring at him from across the small compartment.

"Dream?" She asked in a nonchalant voice.

He did not answer. "How long was I out?"

"Perhaps ten minutes." The woman replied.

Ten minutes! Ripper heaved a deep sigh. No wonder he always looked so tired and haggard these days. He closed his eyes. _Time to find anew what never should have been discovered. The pit is open for you. And it hungers._

"Tell me." He asked suddenly.

"About what?"

"Who you are."

Ruby stretched her legs out across the seats. "It's a long story, and I have no stomach for telling it."

"You know about me. 'Tis only fair that I be offered the same courtesy." The Ripper said seriously.

"I know your brother is dead, your wife is dead, and you hunt in their name. I do not even know what you call yourself. I don't believe I know that much about you at all."

Ripper's expression told her that he did not believe her in the slightest. "You know about my destiny. That is something far beyond my comprehension."

"Touché." She gave a wan smile. "Where do you want me to start?"

"The beginning is usually a fair spot. What are you, what are you really?"

"I was once like you." She said. Her solemn confession didn't glean the wanted reaction from Ripper. Rather, he looked completely unsurprised.

"What happened?"

"I made a deal." Ruby replied shortly. "A deal with a demon."

"Rather like you and me."

"Yes. No! I sold my soul, and this is the end result. You've only gambled yours."

"Why?"

"How far would you go to protect your nephews? Wait, I already know the answer to that." She gave a grim smile.

"I made a deal with you." Ripper said, and Ruby looked up. She shook her head at his unspoken question.

"I offered the deal. Not the other way around. A demon can grant people's wishes, give them their heart's desire, but it doesn't go the other way around."

"Someone has to ask you first?" He sounded slightly incredulous. Ruby nodded.

"That's the way it works. Even a crossroads demon can't really offer one. They can appear to sweeten the deal, but at the end of the day, a person has to seek them out."

"You are a witch."

"I wasn't before. Before the deal. They were all dying, and I had to…" She trailed off.

"How old are you?"

"Don't you know it's rude to ask a woman her age?" A ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "I don't know, five hundred years give or take nine or so?"

He sat there for a long moment, just looking at her, an inquisitive look on his face as though he was trying to figure out what exactly she was. "You are over five centuries old?"

"I have seen… so many things. Not just evil, but the rise and fall of empires, the deaths of great warlords, the wearing away of religions. The very earth being chipped away beneath our feet. Sometimes I just feel so tired. You know?"

He gave an understanding nod.

"What I did was to save my family." She said. "And then my dues were up."

Ripper did not say anything.

"I met people, down… there. People like me, that had made the same choice. Hell burns you out, until you aren't yourself anymore. Every sort of pain that you ever imagined could be inflicted. Sometimes you can hold on to yourself for centuries, sometimes only for minutes. You know, I met a man that had stayed himself for almost two hundred years. Wasn't half mad."

She smiled humourlessly. "I made three days."

"Ruby-"

"I've never regretted it." She said suddenly. "They lived. Because of me."

"Why are you different?" Ripper asked her, withdrawing a leatherbound book from his jacket.

She shrugged. "Luck of the draw? Maybe I'm just a freak."

He smiled a little at that. "I don't know why it happened, it just did." Ruby carried on. "I cried when my sister died of old age. After my brothers were killed in a clan war, I visited their graves every day for a year. The others, they forget. Or they remember, and the memory of what they have lost turns them against this world, your world. Destruction makes the hurt a little less."

"They were all human once."

"Some of them. The ones I know, at least. The others, the ones you should really look out for, they're the pure demons. The ones that were here first." She paused. "They say that years from now, Lucifer will rise again, aided by his apostles, his most trusted followers, and engage the Holy Hosts in the war to end all wars. I think I've mentioned it before."

"The last confrontation between Heaven and Hell." Ripper said. "Judgment Day."

"Judgment Day." Ruby nodded. "And they say that Lucifer's armies will be lead not by himself, but by a… prodigal son. One that spurned us and then came back into the fold. It's said that this leader is capable of… miracles."

Ripper rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It could be a direct juxtaposition to our Lord Jesus Christ," He mused.

"It wouldn't be fair if the sides weren't evenly matched." Ruby said. "The Antichrist."

Ripper's head jerked up.

"These scriptures you speak of. They are the Bible."

"Well, sort of. Your bible, they've got magic and prophecies and kings trapping demons in clay pots. A crazy man going around performing 'miracles'. The Serpent King temping you with the forbidden fruit." She smiled ironically. "Granted, your bible stories have been sanitized over the years to suit various kings and make more user friendly for the huddled masses." She lent back in her seat.

"Different versions leading up to the day of the Apocalypse."

"You lie."

"Give me one lie I've told you so far, Mister Elkins." Ruby snarled.

"If what is going to happen to me is as inevitable as it sounds, why even bother wasting the time on me?"

She gave a sick grin. "If you become our Prodigal Son, at least I'll be on the winning side."

The Ripper did not reply. "Tell me about Azazel."

_Azazel. "I have a job for you."_

"He's a kingmaker." Ruby said. "A tyrant among tyrants. That's not to say he isn't clever. In fact, that is what makes him so dangerous. He _plans_. None of us know how long he's been here for, and some of us think he might have been one of the first. My master serves him. For how long I cannot say, because he's already changed allegiances twice, when the lords he served were assassinated."

"Assassinated?"

"Don't worry, it couldn't have happened to nicer people."

"You have assassins?" Ripper had not sounded overly worried about the situation until Ruby mentioned the magic word. She blinked curiously as he shifted his weight to one side, running a thumb across the hilt of his sword. She didn't miss how his other hand curled more firmly around the blade of the knife she had lent him.

"Our worlds are not that different, Ripper. You have your bad guys, we have ours. You have your gods, we have ours. You have your legends, we have ours. If it's any comfort, the assassins rarely last long after they've been given a job. It's an extremely destructive profession."

"I bet it is." Ripper nodded. The train began to slow underneath their feet, and Ruby peered out the window curiously. Behind her she was aware of Ripper standing and slipping the knife into a sheath underneath his shirt and vest.

"Southampton." It was nice, with big stone arches and sturdy yet artistic architecture. "It's nice." She grabbed her jacket and followed the Englishman down the hall and out onto the platform.

For a moment, Ripper actually looked disorientated. "Are you alright?"

"I have not been here for a long time." He said by way of explanation. She could almost hear the conclusion to the rest of the unspoken sentence. _Since my brother died._

The smoke was thick and hot, and Ruby actually coughed, everything around her seemingly hazy. As the Ripper walked past, she took hold of his coattails and followed him as he walked confidently out of range of the stationmaster's office.

"Another half hour, and I was going to let you find your own way."

There was a familiar American twang to the man's voice, and Ruby turned to see a man with short dark hair in a leather coat that seemed two sizes too big for him. His smile was wide and friendly as Ripper held out his hand to be grasped.

"Simon." He greeted pleasantly.

Before the Ripper could object, Simon Harvelle pulled him into an enormous, one armed hug. "Good to see you again, you old scoundrel." He held him back at arms length to look him up and down; as a favourite uncle may have done to a nephew he hadn't seen for a long time. "Well, the years have been much harsher on you than they have been on me."

Ripper reddened as Ruby grinned at his obvious embarrassment. This Simon didn't seem to be Ripper's type. He wasn't gloomy at all, and seemed to clash sharply against Ripper's pessimistic outlook. "Ruby." The Ripper introduced shortly.

"No 'Lady' this time?" Ruby sneered, but as she was about to add something more, his warning glance told her to stay silent. Simon Harvelle turned to her, and her next words died in her throat.

There was a long scar cutting down his face, leaving a deep groove in the skin. Ruby recognized that scar. She would for as long as she still walked.

_You are cast out for your failure. Do not return until you have completed your task and proven yourself worthy._


	10. Duty and Treason

_**In doing what we ought, we deserve no praise, because it is our duty.**_

* * *

_**PART THREE – Ruby**_

_**Westchester, 1825.**_

_She could hear hooves on the ground behind her, and she turned. The stallion's eyes were rolling wildly, madly. The animal's wits had snapped, and only the sheer will of the rider prevented it from bolting. Reverently, almost fearfully, she gazed up into the face of her master. Her master did not even bother dismounting, but rode right up to her, spraying a cloud of dust in her eyes._

"_In recent times you have given me much to distrust you for, but each time I forgave you because you were my favourite." He began, still not bothering to abandon his lofty position upon his horse. "But you have finally gone too far."_

_She hung her head in shame. In a way, she had always known that it would come to this, but she could not seem to help herself. Each time, the murder of innocents abhorred her more and more. Until the day it had finally caused her to lash out against one of her own._

The woman was heavily pregnant, and begging upon her knees. Not for her life, but for that of her unborn child. _Mercy,_ she cried. _Grant me mercy. _But Marcus still rose the rapier over his head, preparing the killing blow. And as the woman sobbed quietly, something inside Ruby quite inexplicitly snapped.

In two strides, she was beside Marcus, her ally, her friend. As he brought the rapier whistling down, she seized his arm, yanking the blade up and away from the woman's head. _Run, _she mouthed at the astonished woman. _Run._

The blade sank wetly into Marcus's stomach.

"Well, that smarts a bit." Marcus complained as he looked down at his abdomen. 

There was no blood.

"Ruby, what the hell was that? Are you insane?"

"I'm sorry." She said. She had not meant to pierce her companion's flesh, merely defect him away from the woman. "I didn't mean to, I-"

"_I forgave you. Again and again, hoping you would find your way back to us. Finally I can see that it will never happen."_

"_No!" She had seen numerous times what happened to those that lost her master's favour. "Give me one last chance! Let me prove myself to you!"_

_He looked down at her for a moment, and then he smiled. Ruby shivered as she realized that that was what he had been hoping she would say. "Soon you will run out of chances. Yet I have one last use for you."_

"_My Lord?"_

_And he withdrew from his coat a wrapped bundle and tossed it down to the dirt beside her. Cautiously she picked it up. Her master was not known for his generosity._

_A shiny, wicked-looking blade slithered out into her hands. _

"_This is from the Treasury."_

"_Yes." He said. "You will take this knife, and with it, you will do my bidding."_

_She could not speak for a long time. "This is treason." She finally managed to utter._

"_Do not speak to me of treason!" The rider astride his horse snarled out, and Ruby stepped back._

"_You are asking me to become your assassin." She said in a cold voice, completely devoid of any emotion. _

"_I am not asking you. Do you perhaps wish for exile instead?"_

_She squared her shoulders. Looked him right in the eye. "And who will be my first target?"_

"_Don't you worry your pretty little head." He smiled. "When it is time for you to begin, you will know. The clues will present themselves to you. Do not abandon them. Follow them. Stalk them. Use them."_

_It began to rain as he rode away from her. Ruby was quickly sodden through, and she sighed as she walked back to the gate, the knife hot and heavy in her hand. As she rose her palm to push open the gate, she smelt something. Not strong. No ordinary human would have been able to detect it, but she did. _

_Sulphur._

_Turning, she peered back down the rows of graves, many chipped and worn with age. There was a man there, and he had the taint, the demonic taint. _The Mark of Azazel, _she thought, and knew without a doubt that this one would lead her to her first target. Azazel the Impudent One._

_She was going to die._

_He knelt in the dirt on one knee as if proposing marriage, and although he seemed very young, his face was creased with the lines of a lifetime of hardships and woe. He rested a single rose in front of the little stone cross and bowed his head._

_After he had gone, she looked at the grave that had captivated him so._

_Molly Elkins._

_**Southampton, England, 1835.**_

_**January 9.**_

Harvelle did not appear to recognize her, and she could not tell whether that was a blessing or a curse. Part of her felt so strongly that she needed to atone for a lifetime of sins, but another part feared. Feared _him_, without truly knowing why. He was a lowly creature, so far beneath her that it was ridiculous. So why did she instinctively flinch each time he looked her way?

He lead them to a black-draped carriage with black horses and a driver similarly garbed in black. Someone who happened to see this carriage would not remember its passage mere minutes later.

"Your friend doesn't happen to be the King's spy, does he?" Ruby hissed at Ripper as he offered his hand to help her climb up. 

His answering smile was decidedly unpleasant.

She sat beside the Ripper as Simon Harvelle perched opposite. He knocked on the front partition, separating the driver from passengers. "Continue on, James."

"Very good, sir."

He had the look of a noble about him, although Ruby was well aware that America had no nobles. Perhaps he was a mayor, or a senator. Or he was truly William IV's spy among the colonies.

"So, what is the disaster this time?" His eyes lazily flicked up over Ruby. "Is she pregnant?"

"No!" Ruby and Ripper exclaimed at once.

"Ah."

"I don't believe you," Ripper said. "I say I'm in trouble and the first thing you think is my – Miss Ruby is-? You perverted little man."

Ruby glanced at him sideways. "Your what?" She asked curiously. 

"Be fair. This is the first time I've seen you with a pretty lady in almost twenty years."

"Twenty years? That long?" Ruby sounded genuinely shocked. Ripper gave her a look, nothing more.

"So, what can I do for you, sirrah?" Simon asked in a jovial tone.

"A roof over our heads for a time. The Royal Guards off our backs."

"That may be a stretch, m'boy."

"Come on," Ripper challenged. "I know what names you have in your little black book."

"My generosity only goes so far. Buddy."

"So does my patience. Friend."

"Oh dear me, can't you just smell the testosterone in here?" Ruby quipped in a chirpy tone, fanning her face with one hand. The bubble of tension burst as Simon let out a bark of laughter. Ripper gave a thin smile.

"This one's got quite a wit about her." Simon observed, casting Ripper a look. Ruby raised an eyebrow. Clearly these two friends weren't as friendly as they once may have been.

"You are running. Again." Simon inspected the gloved fingers on one hand. Ruby fidgeted. All this sitting still and doing nothing was starting to take its toll on her backside. "From what this time, I don't particularly care. But you've picked a bad time for it."

"Oh, indeed?"

"Yes. I'm headed to the docks this very moment." He nodded. "I'm sure James will drop you somewhere, if you wish."

"I think the further we were away from here, the better." Ruby said slowly. She could see a glimmer of acceptance in Ripper's eyes.

"Would there be a way we could possibly accompany you?" He asked carefully.

Simon sat back, stroking his chin. The scar down his face puckered and twisted. "You're kidding me, right?"

"You know I don't have a sense of humour." The Ripper said deathly seriously. "And _I_ know you are the benefactor of _Verity_ and her crew. We would not displace you much, and I can work for our keep."

"You are too free with your words." Simon said sternly. 

"As are you." Ripper countered.

"If anyone cares what the harmless little female thinks," Ruby interrupted. The looks she received from both ends were unreadable. "I can pay passage."

"You are in a rather desperate situation, aren't you?"

"Quite, sir." Ruby replied, wringing her hands in her lap. The epitome of a lady in distress. "We have reason to believe that in fact the King might be after us."

Simon looked her over, completely silent. Ruby was pushing it, and she knew it. If he was the King's man, he knew without a doubt that she was lying. If he remembered her at all, remembered that she helped murder his family, he also knew without a doubt that she was lying.

"You are very lucky to have such a woman to speak on your behalf." He said finally.

There was a tap on the partition. "Southampton Warf, sir."

"Ah." Simon swung open the door and stepped down. "Last stop on these shores. Milady?" Ruby hesitated to take his hand as she emerged into the waning light, and was struck speechless as she beheld Simon Harvelle's ship, _Verity._

It too was a black hulled, black flagged schooner, bearing no identifying marks whatsoever. And then she understood.

"Tell me," She asked Simon, who strode ahead of them, cane in hand. "Are you a generalized business or are you more selective in what you smuggle?"

Simon's smile did not slip. "I see you aren't the only one with a smart mouth." He commented offhandedly to Ripper. "I would be careful with your words lest they cause someone offence."

"Causing offence to people such as yourself, perhaps?" Ruby quipped. Simon spun his cane, and she caught a glimpse of silver and cold steel. Without a doubt, there was a razor sharp blade secreted in his stick. 

"Be careful, ma'am. Bad things can happen to a pretty lady, and your bear will not always be there to protect you."

"I do not react favourably to threats, Mister Harvelle." She declared coldly.

"Then that makes two of us." He retorted sharply, and then she knew. As clear as day. She saw it in his eyes, that were alive with anger and a deep-seated hatred. A hatred of _her_. He knew. He remembered. And he would not forgive.

"I procure extraordinary items for the eccentrically inclined populace who like to believe that they are keeping the old religions alive by worshipping the occult." His voice was dripping with contempt.

"You must have made a fair few enemies." Ripper commented. 

"It keeps me fed."

The Ripper and Ruby exchanged a glance as a man in a floppy cap strode down the gangway to greet Simon. "We are trusting him?" Ruby snapped, low enough so only her companion could hear.

"If he gives us safe passage out of the British Isles, yes, for the time being." Ripper hissed back. "He is a good soul, underneath it all. Why are you so adverse to the man?"

But Ruby never got the chance to reply as the ship's captain and Simon came back to them.

"I have agreed that you will pay for your passage." Simon said. "You may follow me back to my estate. From there you can re-supply and be on your way."

_**En route to America.**_

They would travel upriver for as long as they could, and then take a carriage to Simon's country estate. From there, Ruby really had no clue. Neither did Ripper, or perhaps the monologues he gave whenever someone tried talking to him could have just been him being pleasant.

The shadows under his eyes were longer than usual, but he would not speak of his dreams to anyone. Ruby only hoped that he had to foresight to warn her before his nightmares began manifesting themselves. 

And so, with the self-imposed exile of the Ripper, Ruby spent her seafaring days attempting to find out as much as he could about His Lordship, Simon W. Harvelle.

He was primarily a thief and a smuggler, to which she was not surprised. His deeds had made him fairly wealthy. To present the illusion of legality, a portion of his vast fortune had been sunk into various expeditions and innovations thought up by enthusiastic entrepreneurs that would have appealed to Simon's borderline eccentric behavior. 

Moving pictures, automobiles, light without the use of fire or gas, weapons of all kinds… He seemed to have his thumb in many pies, taking a slice of whatever he was due. If you had an endeavor you wished to pursue, he had a bit of a reputation as a moneylender as well. He was able to travel the world so freely not just because of his monetary value, but because he had bought the loyalties of so many ambitious others.

The _Verity_ smuggled the normal, the mundane. And then there was the occult, the arcane. And he could do it all and get away with it thanks to the knowledge he had absorbed when he was a child.

She stood on the deck amidst the men straining to assure that the vessel would remain on course, and watched the mainland approach. She smiled as they pulled into port. The air was fresh and the land green, and she briefly wondered whether it would still be the same in three hundred years' time.

"Are we here?" Ripper had arrived, pulling his long coat on despite the warm air. There was a sheen of sweat across his forehead, and his eyes were bright.

Too bright for a man as dour as Ripper. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "You have a fever." She said flatly.

"Nonsense." He scoffed.

"I'll be damned if I'm going to let you drop dead on me now." Ruby said firmly.

"I wont be killed by a fever." Ripper replied jus as flatly.

"My mother said the same thing before the plague took her."

The two of them stood in silence for a moment. 

"So." Ruby finally asked. "Where do we go from here?"

"So you are truly going to follow me?" Ripper asked.

"Where are you going to go now you're here?"

He put his hands on the rail, staring out at the docks. "For the past three months I have been having the same dream." He said. "There is a voice, calling me, and I go. I can see the land all around me, this land. The voice keeps calling, getting louder and louder."

Ruby was silent. "And then there are these two standing stones in front of me, forming the pass. And them I see it, the darkness. The very mouth of Hell, just waiting to spew its legions across the surface of the world." He turned to look at her. "There are others, but I have to bar _this _door. That is my duty in this life."

"Then I am with you." Ruby said without any hesitation.


	11. Demons at the Door

__

_He could see it. The great gap, almost as if the one stone had been cloven into two. It gaped at them, a hungry mouth waiting to devour all._

_"They say no one stares into the eye and lives." _

_He turned to the voice. One of the dark-skinned Indians of the Americas was standing next to him, looking grave. There were feathers braided into his hair._

_"It's hungry." To his other side stood the woman, Ruby, the good demon. Her eyes were transfixed and she was rocking back and forward on her heels slightly. She looked like she wanted to fling herself into the mouth. She looked like she wanted to run away screaming._

_"Right, let's do this before someone falls in." Said a matter-of-fact voice. Ripper looked up to see who it was-_

_-And the great shadow began to descend over them all, becoming thicker and blacker. The cloud forced its way down their throats, into their eyes. Ripper was coughing, choking._

_"You are one of us. One of us."_

_The voices in his head, normally so soft, were now shouting at him. Screaming._

_"One of us! One of us!"_

No! _He tried to shout. _I am not the same as you!

_"One of us!"_

_**Harvelle House, New York, 1835.**_

_**30 January.**_

Simon Harvelle's house was a truly formidable collection of oddments. As soon as Ruby walked through the door, she was surprised by a string of shrunken heads that had been hung off the inner keystone. "Oh my," She said aloud, and then composed herself as Ripper silently followed her into the mansion.

"You've upsized." He sniffed at Simon, in a manner as cold as any lord. "Have you begun charging admissions yet?"

"Very droll." Simon replied. "Please, feel free to take a look around, as I'm sure you will anyway. My maid will come to show you to your rooms." Both Ruby and the Ripper could hear the echoes of his heavy boots as Simon stomped up the stairs. A door slammed somewhere on the higher levels. Ruby deduced that there were at least three levels to the building.

"You know," She said suddenly. "I think I will take a look around this old museum that your friend calls a house. Are you coming?"

Ripper shook his head hopelessly as the woman ventured further into the Harvelle House of the Macabre, lifting her skirt above her ankle so she could move freely from collection to collection. She was almost childish in her glee as she exclaimed over wicked instruments of torture from the Middle East, and magical references from all across Europe. She even pointed out a mistake a scribe had made in one of the texts.

The Ripper couldn't help but join her in her exuberance, lending a fact or two when her instinctive well of information came up dry. Day by day, it was getting harder and harder to accept who she was, and easier to understand why she was doing what she was doing.

Ruby pulled a thick book off the library shelf and flipped it open to a random page. Watching her seemingly tireless form and feeling the bone-weary ache in his own bones, he was suddenly prompted to ask a question.

"Do you sleep at all?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Why, Mister Elkins, are you propositioning me? I'm all aflutter." The corner of her mouth twitched at the color that threatened to rise in his cheeks.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." He said sternly. "Do you require sleep? At all?"

"You mean, in case I have a weak constitution like other noble ladies who faint at the drop of a hat?"

"You never slowed down. It just occurred to me then to ask." He picked up a shiny, opaque crystal ball that Simon had been using as a paperweight. "Do you sleep at all?"

"I can." Ruby answered. "If I feel like it. But sometimes even my body just wears down, you know?"

"Mm." Ripper said. He watched her replace the book she had been holding. _Magic and Medicine in Ancient Egypt._

"Your friend gets around." She commented.

"I haven't figured out whether that's a good thing."

There was a reverent knock on the door, and both of them peered toward the serving girl standing in the doorway. Unassuming black seemed to be the uniform for this household. She curtsied before them, giving them a polite nod of the head. "Sir." She said. "Ma'am. Milord has asked me to show you the way to your rooms. And then he respectfully requests your presence at supper.:

"As long as he keeps his poisons to himself." Ripper muttered.

"Sir!" The maid was aghast.

"He's just joking," Ruby said quickly.

"Aye, maybe he's given up by now," Ripper said cheerfully. Ruby elbowed him in the side.

"Lead the way, miss." The serving girl curtsied again and Ruby frowned.

"Don't do that."

"Ma'am."

"Please don't do that either."

The house was hugged, and Ruby stayed several steps behind Ripper and their escort. "What do you think of Simon Harvelle?" She asked the girl.

"The master? It's hardly my place to say." The maid politely rebuffed her. Ruby felt that her refusal had something to do with the presence of her haughty, broody male companion. As much as she thought, as soon as the man had left the women for his rooms, the maid was much more forthcoming.

"The master has always treated us fairly. He did not even turn my Ma out when she could no longer work for her keep." This was said with a hint of gratitude. "To outsides, he must seem very strange and eccentric."

"What's your name?"

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth. That's a nice name. I'm Ruby." As the maid was about to leave her just inside the door to her room, Ruby beckoned her in. "Come and speak to me a moment. I have not had the chance to speak to another like-minded woman for some time."

Elizabeth awkwardly sat down on the bed beside her. "He seems a very reserved sort, your Mister Elkins."

"He's not my-" Ruby decided it would not even be worth the breath of explaining. "He keeps secrets. Don't we all?"

"But it's not really proper, is it? A woman traveling with a man that is neither her employer nor her husband?"

"And how do you know he isn't my bodyguard?" Ruby asked lightly.

"He is very nonverbal, but when he speaks to you, it is not as a servant to master. If I may ask, what is his meaning to you?"

Ruby pondered her answer for a moment. "I have done some very bad things in my past. She confessed. "Terrible. And he is my cause. By helping him, I might be able to atone for those bad deeds."

"Have you told him he is your redemption?" The maid asked. Ruby was silent. "I wish you luck, ma'am." Elizabeth said. Somewhere, a bell tinkled. "Excuse me, I am required. There are women's clothing in that closet there and bathing facilities behind that door."

"Should I ask why a bachelor has women's dresses on hand?" Ruby asked.

"Best not, Ruby." The maid smiled. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise." Ruby nodded.

The door closed. The demon got up and marauded around her room. The walls were boarded with beautiful paintings and fine woodcuts of another age. Every single portrait seemed to have strangely luminous eyes. She stopped to stare up at a painting of William IV, and raised her fist.

"I wonder…" She tapped at the wall. Solid, solid, solid… "Please, not behind the portrait."

But sure enough she found that there was a small wooden lever hidden underneath the ornate framing, and as she touched it, the painting swung away from the wall. "Eureka." She smiled, and stepped into the spy hole.

It was dusty and dark and she found that she rather liked it. She squeezed herself into the passage between the walls, marveling at how thin the Harvelle spy must have been. Slowly she began to idly move down the passage.

Ripper's room sprung into view as she lowered her eyes to the peephole in the wall. The man himself then walked into her line of sight and began to peel off his grimy clothes. Ruby looked away, preserving his dignity even though he had absolutely no idea that she was the mouse in the walls. And she continued on.

"_She's going to kill us all!" _

Ruby stiffened as soon as she heard the exclamation. However, curiosity propelled her down to look through the peephole into the next room. "I can't think of why he would be with her. Does he-?"

"He knows." Simon Harvelle said dryly. "He knows. How he could happily rub shoulders with one of the ones that murdered Dean and did Molly to death, I have no idea."

Ruby's mouth was dry. She knew with clarity what this conversation was about as she crept along, looking for a better vantage point. Hoping she would not run into the spy whom these tunnels belonged.

Simon was standing with his back to the spyhole, hands on his hips. He was facing a grey-haired older gentleman in pinstripes. Something about his associate set the hairs on the back of her neck all on edge.

"It would be safer to cast them out." The solicitor-like man said.

"He would not be with her if he thought he could use her for something."

"I agree. Unless she needs him for something." The older man said. "Send for her. Let us discover the plot. They will not leave until we know what they are here for. They will not leave _me._"

Ruby was almost certain that they must have heard her swallow, for the sound echoed loudly in her own ears. She stepped back.

Her heel scraped along the floor.

She froze, hoping neither of them had heard her. But her hopes were dashed as Simon slowly turned to the wall, peering up at exactly where she was standing inside the walls. Slowly he raised a hand to unlatch the spy hole.

Ruby backed out of the passage as quickly as she could, stumbling out into her room and closing the painting behind her. Her hands were flat against the wall.

It was silent. The passage seemed empty, and Ruby let herself relax a little.

There was a knock on the door, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

"It's me." Ripper said.

"Don't come in!" Ruby splashed water on her face and wiped most of the grime away. "I'm not decent."

"Ruby…"

"Hold on." She quickly pulled off her outer garments before throwing on a red silk dress and fluffing her hair. "Alright. Come in." The door swung open, and she beheld the Ripper. "Well," Ruby released her hair. "Don't you clean up nice?"

He was looking rather awkward in his crisp, clean shirt and powder blue frock coat. "You aren't too bad yourself." He said, with a completely straight face. "I feel like an idiot."

"At least you don't look like one. Presentation, Ripper. Presentation. Is His Royal Highness waiting?"

"It is a woman's prerogative to arrive late."

"And what when her escort too arrives late? Surely that is not acceptable in polite society."

"I forfeited my place among polite society a long time ago." He smiled grimly. "Ma'am?"

In the dining room, Simon was seated at the head of the table, the butler James standing directly behind him. He inclined his head politely as they entered, and Ruby's mouth thinned. "I must talk to you later," She hissed at Ripper as they parted.

Ripper was quick to take note of the two other places set at the table. "Are we expecting company?"

"Of course. I would not have even attempted the task of making you look presentable if not." Simon said bluntly. He pointed. "The last time I saw you in tails, you were getting married."

Ripper smiled patiently. "And the next time you see me in tails will be as they bury me." He said pleasantly.

James assisted Ruby with her chair as she sat. Both herself and Ripper had been placed directly opposite each other, and the woman had to wonder whether Simon had arranged it that way, so no exchange of information could pass between her and her companion.

"Who else are we waiting on?"

Simon took a sip from his glass. "A friend of my father's. And a young gent from Connecticut with quite an ingenious idea. A firearm that is capable of firing six rounds without stopping to reload, can you imagine?"

Ruby and Ripper looked at each other.

The dining room doors opened once more and the young maid Elizabeth entered, leading two other men in her wake. "Daniel Prichard has arrived, sir." She said in her quiet, timid little voice. Ruby was instantly wary. "And Samuel Colt."

The little man followed in the wake of the more physically imposing, grey-haired Daniel Prichard, a box in his hands. Ripper had no doubt that it was the same gun that the annoying little man had shot him with.

As Sam himself saw the other two guests at the table, his face turned decidedly ashen.

* * *

"Sam here is looking for a financier for a little innovation he has thought up." Simon said in that offhandedly-belittling way of his. Ruby looked up in time to see the Ripper refuse the Harvelle wine in favor of whatever was in the little flask he always carried.

"Yes, sir." Sam said. "Colt Manufacturing and Firearms. Myself and my brothers are in the process of securing investors."

The maid Elizabeth had quietly slunk back into the room and was now standing at James's shoulder. A stand of cobweb clung to her ordered hair and Ruby frowned. She quite felt like the noose was about to be drawn around her neck.

"Quite an ingenious idea, rather." Simon continued, seemingly unaware of the tension rife in the room.

"The Colt six-shooter." Ripper said quietly. Simon's expression didn't change. Rather, he looked like he had expected the answer.

"You certainly stay abreast of things."

"He shot me with it."

"Yes, well. We all make our mistakes."

Instead of stuttering an apology and bowing his head to study his shoes as Ruby half expected, Sam's face went almost immediately beet-red.

"You jumped me first, you maniac."

The Ripper was speechless for the merest second, and then he found the wellspring of anger that he normally tried so hard to disguise. "What was I supposed to do? Wait for you blow my brains out with that… contraption of yours?"

"You said you were going to cut my throat! You burned down a building! You made it so I can never go back to England!"

"It was no loss to England." Ripper said stiffly.

"You son of a-"

"Gentlemen, please." Simon stepped in smoothly. "I had heard about the… incident in London, but will we truly let such a small event invite such animosity?"

Sam Colt's bottom lip trembled slightly, on the verge of revealing all. Ruby hoped that he would not attempt to carry his resentment past angry words, for he would risk both his life and the fine Harvelle carpets. She glanced at the Ripper, and his closed face indicated that he was once more cold and aloof and untouchable. But for the briefest instant the mask had slipped and she had seen the real person behind.

The demon had seen how vulnerable he really was.

"Sam is willing to provide a demonstration." Said Simon. "Do you care to join us?"

"I do not. I have already had a thorough demonstration." Ripper said coldly. "Good night to you all."


	12. I am the Hellbound

_**1 February, 1835.**_

_The Boy King comes._

_The Boy King comes._

_The Boy King comes._

He shook the voice out of his head. He could see the road in front of him, as straight and smooth as an arrow. _You're on the one-way street now, son._ There was no going back, not this time, not ever.

_The Boy King comes. The Boy King comes._

He was going to end it. Here. Now. It couldn't go on like this anymore.

Hell's Gate was open.

He saw his brother, falling away from him. It rendered him in two all over again. He could not do ought.

He saw a woman, burning, screaming, begging. Her face changed as he watched her. She was one woman, and yet she was all of them, mothers, fathers, daughters, sons. _They all burned._

There was a body on the ground in front of him. As he watched, the man's eyes glowed a bright, searing yellow before fading back to a more natural shade of blue. The body shuddered once, and then was still.

_The King is dead, God save the King._

And then _she _was coming for him. She was familiar, and yet she wasn't. Her whole existence was about snuffing out his. He flinched away from her, and suddenly he was falling, through the veil into a world that was not his own.

There was a young man, standing there. He was perfectly still one would have thought he was dead, if not for the occasional rise and fall of his chest.

_Stranger apparel I have not seen._

He was tall and lean, and there was something about him, something around him. And he knew.

The boy had seen Hell. He had seen the gaping jaws and he no longer feared the darkness. He knew they were coming for him, and he would give them a fight.

_As will I._

It was then that the boy looked up. Looked straight at him. His eyes widened momentarily as the two hunters, here and now and long ago stared at each other. And the boy asked a single question.

"_How did you get into my dream?"_

Ripper woke with a start. There was a sheen of sweat across his face, pasting his hair to his forehead and he swept it back impatiently. Bloody hell, would these dreams never cease? Soon he would welcome the Devil's advocate that would come to test his spirit.

Harvelle House seemed akin to a tomb in the dead of night. He could not even hear the faint sounds of the servants as they went about their duty. Dressing in the dark, he buckled the demon knife around his waist beside his sword before covering it with his coat. Something didn't bode well this night.

The woman did not seem at all delighted as he opened the door to her room. "You often give ladies midnight calls?" She asked acidly, holding her night robe closed.

"You are not a lady. Not anymore."

"What do you want?" Ruby said shortly. Ripper looked into her face, and had to wonder. What had been the true face of the nameless avenging angel? Who had been this lady that now stood in front of him, highborn woman, peasant, or whore?

"Answers." He said quietly, simply.

"Have we not yet spoken enough on this matter? Over the past days all we have done is talk." She sounded annoyed by their lack of action.

"Of trivial things of no consequence." Ripper said. "I am the Hellbound. I can feel it coming closer with every passing day. It is waiting for me, and I can _see _it every time I close my eyes. Do not deny me the knowledge of what awaits me."

"You are an unnaturally curious man, you know that?"

"Indeed. My curiosity has always been my downfall." He sat on her bed. "Will you join me?"

Ruby sat, and was about to speak when there was a scream, long and echoing down the great, empty stone hall. Both demon and hunter leapt to their feet immediately. "Go, go!" Ruby directed, flapping her hands at Ripper, as she began to thumb through her drawer for a weapon. "I'll catch you up!"

And so Ripper did what he was told, ye gods, and stepped out into the hall. There was more screaming, and there was the sound of something heavy being thrown against the kitchen wall.

"Ripper!"

It was he, Simon Harvelle, as fully dressed and equipped as the Ripper was. The two of them looked at each other, momentarily surprised that they had both anticipated this. A door to their right was flung open and Sam Colt stepped out, full of righteous fury. "What the devil is going on here?" He demanded.

The two gentlemen turned to face him, with equal resigned looks. "I think that may very well be the answer." Simon said.

"But what-"

The two of them left just as Sam was framing his next sentence. Something curious was happening here. And he wasn't particularly sure that he wanted to find out. Reaching back into his room, he tucked his Colt into the back of his trousers. Grumbling, he followed them down the passage.

Simon spotted the dead cook before either Ripper or Sam did. She was lying, or what was left of her, strewn across the outer hall. Sam covered his mouth with his hand. He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.

_Demons weren't real, dammit!_

Still, he raised the pistol before him, slightly behind the other two. The Ripper reached for Ruby's knife. Harvelle seemed to quake with every forward step, and the two other men glanced at him sideways out of the corners of their eyes.

"Methinks you are aware of who this houseguest is." Ripper said casually.

"_Houseguest? _The damn cook's been mutilated." Sam hissed.

"He's not housetrained yet." Ripper said dryly. He stopped and caught Simon's arm.

"Go away." Simon said. "Go back to your rooms and don't get in the way."

"Simon-"

"Mister Harvelle-"

"Damn it all, could you two just do what you're told?" He exploded. There was the light nose of feet patting on the stonework behind them, and Ripper knew that the demoness had arrived.

"Quiet, all of you!" Sam shouted.

Ruby squeezed herself in beside the Ripper. "They come." She said balefully. She glanced sideways at Simon. "Can't you hear them?"

And Ripper did. The sounds of claws on stone, scraping slivers free as they padded along. The sounds of harsh panting, blood on the wind. Simon was staring forward with a steely determination, and the Ripper knew.

"You ass!" He hissed. "Why did you not tell me that you made a deal at the crossroads?"

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, bemused.

"I'll explain everything later." Ruby said. What a sight the four of them must have looked, two of them still in their bedclothes, one dressed like he was off to war, and the other dressed as if for a funeral. In any other circumstances, she would have found it funny. "Come on. Get away." She tugged at Ripper's sleeve. "They will find him soon and that will be the end of it. Back to bed."

"You really are a soulless witch, aren't you?"

"Oh, God." Sam watched the tracks beging to form in the blood. Simon had long since stopped shaking, but his eyes were wide. "What the hell is it?"

"Can't you see it?" Harvelle whispered. In his mind's eye, he could see too well. The rough expanse of mangy fur, the ill-proportioned bulging muscles, the wide, ferocious jaw smeared with blood, open as if the hounds were laughing at him. Waiting for him to run. To hide.

_Let us hunt, brother!_

He closed his eyes as the first one leapt. Gods, he did not want to die! But he did not want to live as he did, either. Running, moving from continent to continent, hoping that someone, somewhere, would have a way he could escape the contract. Evade the deadline.

Warm blood splashed his face, followed by a mournful howl.

Not even thinking twice, the Ripper had brought the demon knife slashing down blindly. As he watched in amazement, blood spurted from nowhere and there were angry sparks before there was the thump of a body hitting the ground.

There was a loud bang, and a yelp. Sam was looking grim, staring down the barrel of his gun, aiming into thin air. He looked quite bewildered. Ripper watched the bloody footprints circle around on the floor before he plunged the knife down again.

Dead.

"Are there any more?" He demanded. "Simon!"

The man seemed shell-shocked. "No, no. What the hell did you do? Now they're going to be _really _pissed off." He turned angrily to Ripper. "You can never leave well enough alone, can you?" He shouted. "You always have to pick it up, turn it around, bloody interfere in everyone's bloody life!"

"You'd be dead," Sam was now way past confused.

"Aye, but I would not be hurting anyone else."

"Until you come back as one of Hell's minions." Ruby said quietly. Simon Harvelle just looked at her before walking off. She knew it would be the last time any of them saw him. He would be long gone by sunup.

"You've made a mistake." She said, catching both Sam and the Ripper by the shirtsleeves. "Their master… will see what you have done as an act of war."

"Then let them come." Ripper growled, and he too stalked off.

"Arrogant fool." Ruby hissed.

Sam stared after the both of them, before stepping back into his shadowed doorway. As he was the last to sink back into his bedchamber, it was only he that saw Dr Daniel Prichard come down the hall. The man ran his fingers through the unearthly red stains on the floor before scowling so ferociously that Sam lent back further into the shadows.

He prayed it was only the darkness that made Daniel Prichard's eyes as black as they were.

Nevertheless, Sam kept a candle burning all night, and was careful to reload the Colt, where it shared his pillow.

* * *

_I do not want war. Why do I not want war? _

Ruby sat on her bed. She wished she had the knife by her side, but she had passed it onto the hunter for the time being. And now she was beginning to wonder whether that was the right choice. Recently he had proven himself rash, quick to anger, impulsive, and borderline suicidal.

He had a reason, like they all had a reason, but she did not want to hear it. She did not want to even begin to understand. For then she would know him, and perhaps even come to like him, and then she could not complete what she had sworn to do. _The hunter is a tool I must use to fulfill my mission, and that is it. I don't need to know him. He is not my friend._

Friend?

_Kill Azazel and all will be forgiven. You are now the assassin, and must reject all weaknesses. _

Yet she did not even know now who she worked for.

And as she sat there and stared at the hands that were hers and yet not hers, an inexplicable feeling of hate began to form in her gut. Hate, to the ones that had reduced her to this, used her loyalty and, yes, her love, to turn her into this… this _monster._

She hated all of Hell with a deadly passion.

And in the end, Hell would know her wrath.

Finally her body began to tire and she lay back. Perhaps she could have made herself continue on, as she had always done, but keeping her eyes open suddenly seemed to require too much effort.

All of Harvelle House was dead to the world, bar the one. And that was how, in the early hours of the morning, the Ripper's widow had been blown in, and the psychic was cleanly snatched away, leaving no trace.

Except a long smear of sulphur across the floor, flaunted to show Ruby that she had lost this one.

She had lost.


End file.
